Tomorrow: Done Up Raw
by wizkid08
Summary: Abandoned, fortunately, I think, because I am working on another copy.  Please, take a glance at "Concerning Queen Evelyn, Among Other Things."  Thank you!
1. Chapter 1

_Hogwarts Express._

Sixth year back at Hogwarts. Nothing to write home about really, but both my parents are excited, because sixth year is the form when students start their NEWT classes. As a Ravenclaw, and as a pureblood, I am expected to do extremely well. Actually, it is not strictly about expectations anymore.

What my parents want from all of their children goes beyond expectations.

It is more a general unspoken knowledge that anything less than a stellar performance in my classes this term will lead to a quick abandonment and then disownment. Read: I will be left on the streets to make my own way if I so much as slip an inch and get an Exceeds Expectations on any assignment. I frequently daydream and over plot so a Life On The Streets would not be a good one for me. To my parents, bad grades at Hogwarts are the worst betrayal of any kind. I think they would sooner betroth me to a Lestrange than see me do poorly on any exam. Everything works out then since I am an amazing student.

Prefect.

Top of my class.

Tutor to Muggleborns and younger students alike.

I should be a parent's wet dream.

I was raised in an environment that is the epitome of what a Ravenclaw pureblood family should be about. We are Neutral in political matters. In the mid to upper echelons when it comes to finances. And more or less on the fence when it comes to just about every other aspect of life. Now being on the fence is not necessarily a bad thing—I have grown up to believe the opposite—but it sure as Hades does not put one in the mindset of Doing Things Soon; this is why people at Hogwarts usually see me buried in a book.

But I like books. Books are lovely.

I could blather on for pages and pages about how lovely books are but that is not my set goal for this afternoon. My set goal for this afternoon is to get in order my thoughts about this upcoming school year. You have joined me at the beginning, which is always a nice place to start, so I think, right now, I will make a list about what I want to achieve this 6th year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 1976.

#1: Quidditch Team.

My parents _loathe _Quidditch. The "official report" is that they have no opinion on it whatsoever, but I know that they would just as soon see that it got abolished in Britain. This means that if I want to rebel at all this year, I need to make our House team. I have been practicing in secret with my friend Tamara's broom all summer long, so I do not think making the team should be a major difficulty for me. Barbary—our Captain, and a 7th year, and who could forget, an overt dreamy eye catcher—is one Chaser down right now and who am I to deny my potential by not trying out?

#2: Get A Boyfriend.

Interesting that this is my Number Two. I have always wanted a boyfriend. I have never had one. For an entire month last year, I wondered very seriously if I was a Lesbian and consequentially sending out Lesbian-like-vibes to all males of age I knew existed since males tend to walk in the opposite direction when they see me approaching, but after kissing three separate girls and feeling no "sparks" when our mouths touched, I came to the conclusion that I am straight as an arrow. And you cannot bend an arrow; the wood would break; unless it was a young wood, or unless you put a Bending Charm on it.

Hmm.

Anyway, you get my point. Girls have cute faces and everything, but inside, they are insane obnoxious beasts and not worth anyone's time unless that person is very, very drunk off of Firewhiskey or some other blend of special Wizard spirits (Moon-Crazed Gin and Brewer's Delight to name two).

#3: Do Well On My Exams!

This should be an obvious one, but I felt like writing it down anyway. If only to make me focus more on What Is Most Important.

After Sensical Consideration, I believe #3 should actually be #2, but my brain this morning is apparently hung up on specimens of the male persuasion, ever since it espied Bertram Aubrey getting onto the Express, looking fit and very much changed, and it is unwilling as yet to let go of Naughty Thoughts, so the 2nd stays, haha.

#4: Be a Better Friend to Tamara Paulelicky…Paulylicky…something like that.

Tamara is sitting across from me right now. I guess it goes to show how wrapped up in my own head I get sometimes, but I can never, for the life of me, remember how to pronounce—or spell, apparently!—her last name. I have known the girl for ten years, and every year it has yet to change. Despite the fact that she has repeatedly lent me her flying apparatus. My brain recognizes Tamara as inconsequential and that is that.

This is a very sad thing, because I genuinely do like Tamara. Or at least I try to.

It is hard to genuinely like anyone who does not understand sarcasm.

Sarcasm being a British Invention, anyone who does not apply it in everyday language should be horsewhipped.

Bad Thoughts! Bad Thoughts!

I get that she is insecure, I really do. And I get that she is dyslexic and she just wants people to like her, so she tries hard to be what she thinks we might like, but only comes off as someone more than a tad annoying, like an amoeba or a Madam Pince. Just once, however, can I not be allowed to write in some semblance of peace? Seriously. I mean, Buggering Merlin and All His Toes, why can I not just be allowed to write in some semblance of peace? I am getting worked up a bit now, but it is only inevitable when I am the only other person in the compartment for Tamara to talk to.

How I wish she would just leave! We are on the Hogwarts' Express for Agrippa's sake, surely, surely there is someone else to visit, someone else to bug who just so happens to be writing in her journal as well, for you, Tamara P?

This lack of patience is why Tamara is on my List.

"Can I have a look, then?"

I closed the book on my finger—so Tamara would not look—and shook my head sorrowfully. "I'm sorry, but I really don't like people reading what I write! I'm very insecure about it, if you want the truth."

Tamara sat back down in her seat and visibly deflated. "Oh." Thirty seconds of brilliant blessed silence passed and then she started talking again. "But, _why—?"_

The door banged open. "Hello, friends, how goes it?" A tall female with white-blonde hair preceded this greeting into our small compartment, another girl, this one of medium height with black hair, followed directly behind her. Both were still in their casual leisure clothes which was something truly unfortunate as we should have been setting an example for the first years, but we are all allowed our careless banalities. I really did not want more company—I would have much preferred reaching a solid #5 on my What Is Most Important List—but I resigned myself to making conversation.

"Hello," I greeted, standing up and giving out hugs. "How have your holidays been?"

If anyone can roll their eyes sweetly at a person, then it is Blonde Camilla Jones. "Evie, you just saw the both of us last weekend. We went out for Ice Cream and shopped at Mrs. Phillips's Robes for All Occasions. You bought a blue one and cried about your mum."

"Yes, I know, but I'd thought I'd ask anyway. Get it out of the way for other things."

"Like what?" Lucille Sawyers-of-the-dark-hair asked me.

I shrugged, unable to think of anything. "Well…"

"Oh, budge over!" Lucille said. She suited command to action by nudging me out of the way with her hip. "Getting fleshy, I see!" She turned to Tamara with a big smile. Lucy has always had a soft spot for Tamara, though Merlin knows why, because she does not seem to have any patience for me. "Tamara! Good to see you! How's my favorite chicky?"

Tamara giggled. "But, Lucy, I'm not a _chicky,_ I'm a _girl."_

I nodded in agreement. "And a finer one, God never did make."

Thirty minutes later, it was time for me to go to The Prefects' Compartment to meet the new Prefects and the Head Boy and Girl and get my assignment for the remaining ride to Hogwarts.

"You'll come back, won't you?" Camilla asked, sparing a glance to her right to look at Tamara and Lucy—they were braiding each other's hair and I am not kidding. "Time's like these I wish I hadn't handed in my badge."

Lucy turned her head. "What? What do you mean by that?" she asked suspiciously.

"I just mean that Evie and I had so much fun last year…traipsing around the school—."

"I wouldn't call it 'fun,' Cam," I said. "It was actually a bloody waste of time most nights."

"Hear, hear!" Lucy said. "I remember waiting up for you guys. Boring, awful evenings. No one to talk to."

"You had me," Tamara said softly.

Lucy patted her head. "Sweetie, I know I had you, but you have to admit, you do fall asleep early. Sometimes, I would be talking to you and, poof! Out you'd go! I wouldn't know what to do with myself, because I'd be done with studying and it would be too early for bed."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, _honey!"_

Oh, Merlin. I exited before this could degenerate into something worse. Something like a Muggle Soap-Sud Drama. Camilla looked like she wanted to follow me outside, but knew she could not (and so was left to mope in her seat!). I decided to save a smirk for her for when I got back. It was her fault she was no longer a Prefect after all.

Not wanting to handle the added stress of being a role-model to the younglings on top of NEWT classes, Camilla had explained to Flitwick last term that she just did not think she was ready for both responsibilities. I think Camilla's real motivation lied in not wanting to be around her ex-boyfriend—who also happens to be a Prefect for Ravenclaw—but alas, I am not privy to Cam's inner thoughts. I, of all people, however, do know the stress a 6th year Prefect is under.

It is Big. However, I will not quit my Prefect-ship because I do not have anyone I need to avoid. Or at least, there are people I would like to avoid, but no one I have to.

Walking along the hallway to The Prefects' Compartment farther down the train, I started wondering who our new Head Boy would be.

I was very curious.

I knew our Head Girl could not be anyone other than Lily Evans, as she was The Original Swot, but the Head Boy position was still Up In Air last time I overheard Headmaster Dumbledore talking about it with the Head of my House, Professor Flitwick.

The fact that Dumbledore was discussing the Imminent Head Boy-ship with Flitwick of course led me to think that our new Head Boy was a fellow Raven. Out of the seven possibilities—we had a big crop of boys in 7th year—the only two I could think that stood any chance at all were Heathcote Barbary and Alexander Riktus; and that was because they were fellow Prefects. Out of the two, however, I dearly, dearly hoped Heathcote would get the position, because if I had to be under the thumb of Alexander Riktus as Head Boy, I would set down my books and go on Strike.

Anthony Featherhead, one of our 6th year Prefects—and an inveterate flirt for all his curly hair and supposed harmless-looks—met me at the sliding door to the enlarged Prefects' compartment. "Hey, Ransom, looking very prurient today. After you."

"Pederast," I murmured, just to be contrary, wondering why he was blocking my way.

Anthony looked amused. "What was that?"

"Pardon? Oh! I thought…well, did _you_ want to go first, Tony?" Featherhead unfortunately did look quite firm in his robes. Obviously too firm. Obviously, he was wearing padding. The tight spots around the shoulders and arms clearly needed some tailoring if he was going to dress himself up to look fit. "Only I thought we needed to be in there now."

"Of course, of course." Featherhead gestured me in before him. "After you."

"Thank you."

Sitting down, I nodded at those I knew—which were not that many actually. There was redheaded Lily Evans, who I was more or less happy to note, if only because it proved my supposition (and I always delight when that happens) had made Head Girl. She looked a bit nervous, and I am not sure I envied her.

"Congratulations!"

Evans smiled. "Thank you, Evelyn."

Next to Evans was Alice Prewett, a Gryffindor as well, and current girlfriend of last year's graduate, Frank Longbottom. "Alice," I said.

"Evelyn."

There was Camilla's replacement of course: Mara Dice, the only other Ravenclaw 6th year girl aside from those whom I have mentioned previously, and a Bigger Bitch anywhere you did not meet—which is why I am only allowing her this one sentence in my entry for this afternoon and am not going to even greet her.

There was Remus Lupin, 7th year Prefect for Gryffindor, along with one of the Prewett twins—relation to Alice unclear. I could never tell those twins apart, but both were tall and good-looking enough to warrant a certain obliviousness of my existence so it never really mattered. I smiled at Remus, because he was giving me a kind look.

There was Marly Harold and Victor Bell, Hufflepuff 6th years, and our resident Golden Couple.

There were various and sundry Slytherins—a couple whom I nodded to. Severus Snape was sneering as always, but he looked in better health than the last two years I have seen him, which is a lucky break! He had gotten rid of that grotesque patchy mustache for instance.

Also in attendance were the 5th year Prefects. Amelia Selwyn and Lucretia Bordeaux were part of our House's contributions to the list.

Every Prefect looked to be accounted for. However Evans was still silent, supposedly waiting for the arrival of the Head Boy so the two of them could introduce everyone else together.

Five minutes later, and still no Head Boy.

People were starting to get Antsy, wanting to get the meeting over with. I was greatly surprised to find that neither Heathcote Barbary nor Alexander Riktus had gotten the spot. Whom it was, I no longer had a clue. Remus Lupin would have been my third choice, but obviously he was not it since he wasn't wearing The Badge.

"Oh, my God. It's not possible!"

That outburst had come from Lily Evans and I could tell this was exactly the wrong kind of impression she wanted to make on everyone. Truly, I could not blame her, because leaning against the open doorway to The Prefect's Compartment like a muggle movie Romeo was arrogant arse James Potter, proudly displaying his Gryffindor crest on which was nestled a shining, golden Head Boy Badge.

I groaned, in firm belief that James Potter as Head Boy was one of the last things Hogwarts' young minds needed. Potter was more the type to run a bawdy house than a Common Room. Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Severus Snape moaning and clutching his stomach like someone about to sick up.

Potter stepped into the room. "Oh, Lily-Flower, I assure you, it is true! Why, I woke up last month and there that owl was—."

"Shut up!" Evans cried. "Just_ shut up! I have to think!"_

Everyone was basically silent, waiting for Evans to think it out. It was not a rare occurrence to see a fight between these two, but I had to admit that that never stopped it from being entertaining. I have always gotten a kick out of seeing Evans's forehead burst into flame like it seems to be doing right now.

Alice Prewett tried to soothe her friend with a hand on the back but Evans was having none of it and brushed her away. "Please," she said to Potter, "please, tell me this is one of your jokes. Please!"

"Believe me," Potter returned, "I was just as surprised as all of you!"

Well, interesting year up ahead!

Cannot wait for The Welcoming Feast if this is the kind of excitement we should all be expecting.


	2. Chapter 2

_The Grounds._

We're getting off the train and making our way to the carriages now. It is very dark and spooky outside. Blustery and biting; like a terrier. Very Scotland In The Fall type weather. I love it and I hate it. It excites the senses and makes my nose freeze. With the giant castle and the mist and the midnight blue lake, the whole ambiance of the school is given an historical aspect.

And Hogwarts is historical (one of the highest compliments I'll ascribe to anything).

It has been around for more than 1,000 years, and I am lucky to go here, really. I almost missed out on this experience. I am lucky my parents did not decide to send me to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, like they did my older sister, Blessed Bell Ransom. Blessed Bell turned out to be A Snob And A Half because she went to a School For Snobs, so I am lucky that I got to go to Hogwarts and so turned out the level-headed way I am.

"Here they come!" said Camilla excitedly.

The carriages are made to appear as if they run on their own—as if by magic!—so all the little ones receive the full experience, but they are really pulled by animals called Thestrals. I can't see Thestrals, so I can't vouch through first-hand experience of what they look like, but I've read that a person can only see one if she or he has seen someone else die. Moving on. Getting into the carriage.

I guess I am getting more anxious for the school year to start. I know the train and the ride to the castle and the Welcoming Feast and the leading of our new students to their House Common Rooms is all traditional and all very nice, but I have been going here enough terms to just want classes to begin already. It's Wednesday, so we have an entire five days to "prepare"—as it were—for classes on Monday, but I wish Monday were here now. It gets a bit tiring sometimes, having this build up of excitement year after year. I think I might be getting too old for it.

After our Prefects' Meeting—which consisted of a lot of forced politeness and barbed looks on Evans's part—we were all given time slots and a section of The Express to monitor. My bad luck that Camilla quit her Prefect-ship last year and I was left with having to deal with Mara Dice for one hour, but so is life. The Fat Slug most rightly and correctly hates me just as much as I cannot stand her, so the chore of minding the little kiddies was done with minimal conversation.

The one major sore spot during the ride however was reached when I bumped into Sirius Black.

After I had gotten over my momentary brain freeze at seeing him appear so close to me, I gave him one of my superior "Aren't-You-A-Stupid-Sad-Man" smiles. It did not seem to work quite as I wanted it to because Black just proceeded to give me a confused look and meandered on his way down the hallway; presumably to create some sort of mischief with his friends. But I think in the future he will know to watch where he puts his feet, lest he incur greater wrath.

As Black was walking away, Mara Dice looked at his bottom like it was The Most Glorious Creation Ever, but I, of The Classic And Divine Restraint, forced my eyes straight ahead. It was a great win on my part and was an enormous help in cheering me up.

Realizing, of course, that I have yet to mention Sirius Black in full, I will rectify that now.

Two Things You Need To Understand About Him Are:

#1: Black is so often on my mind that it is amazing to me if or when other people need his presence explained.

And #2: Black is such an awful human being that I hate thinking about him and actively try not to do so.

Of course, when you are trying to actively not think of a person, you just end up thinking about that person all the more. I am so stubborn however, that this is not a major set-back for me. As much as I think about Sirius Black, I not think about him more.

I have just contradicted myself.

It is alright however, because this only has to make sense to me as this is my journal and not yours.

To wrap things up, I think it will suffice to say that Sirius Black and I have a bit of a History together.

He is _That Boy._

Not the One Who Got Away—if only because I never had him—but That First Crush. "The One" who is so soiled and diseased in my memory, that he has become a permanent fixture in my soul. I cannot get rid of him. I really want to, but I can't. He is so beautiful and arrogant that he's un-get-rid-able. His very existence is useful to me, however, in the fact that it reminds me of how much better a person I am. This is why I make a point everyday of ragging on him.

In my head, Black is ever sorry that he called me an "ugly cow" in third year.

_The Great Hall._

"I hope you all had a pleasant trip here!" Our Headmaster began his yearly Welcoming Speech that Returning students and Newcomers alike were forced to listen to. In the past, I have tried to enact Muffling Charms so I don't have to listen to Headmaster Dumbledore's prattle about Things I Am Already Supposed To Know but The Great Hall apparently has an innate magic that prevents this. Oh well. "A very great welcome to our new and returning students! And one to our lovely professors as well!" Dumbledore smiled benignly, looking over at The Gryffindor Table. "I am crossing my fingers, hoping Mr. Potter and his friends have decided to leave off on their pranking, if only for this evening! A bad bet to take, I am sure, but I have the hope that they have grown up and learnt from past mistakes! I have faith!" Dumbledore, unsurprisingly it has to be said, did not sound very concerned if it turned out either way.

From The Gryffindor Table, a tall, long-haired, classically-handsome boy, Black, rose up from his seat. Under everyone's staring, he preened and expanded with ego. "Oh, Dumblebucket, you wound me! _How_ you could _think_ we—!"

"Black, sit down this instant!" our Transfigurations Professor, Minnie McGonagall, yelled, quickly rising. Professor McGonagall isn't the most patient of women at the best of times. When it comes to Sirius Black, Minnie is as cold as the reeds in our Lake. I believe she identifies Black as everything wrong with our generation and that can only be good for my piece of mind. "I will brook no tomfoolery in this Hall!" In her exhilaration, McGonagall's pointy hat was in danger of dropping fully off her head. "Sit down now!"

"But, McGonagall! My heart! Your words cut me deeply! Yes! I am skewered on the blade of my own passion!" It seemed that every girl in The Hall giggled. "Much like Rombleton is skewered by his blade in Shaker's play!"

"That is enough, Mr. Black!" Professor McGonagall said. "Cease this disruption and sit down _right _now!"

Sirius Black pouted. "I don't want to! Look around, Minnie Mouse! They love when I stand up like this! What kind of wizard would I be, to deprive my audience of such a glorious opportunity?"

"Feast for the eyes!" Potter, Black's best friend, fellow annoying cohort (and Evans's bane) agreed. Though to give Potter his credit, he looked to be trying to pull Black back onto the bench.

"Oh!" Professor McGonagall glared at them. "Dumbledore, I…this is unacceptable!"

"Yes, yes, Minerva," the Headmaster said with a sigh. "I know. Boys!" he addressed the Gryffindor 7th years as a whole, which I thought funny but a little unfair—on Potter's left, it looked like Remus Lupin was trying to sink into his seat, "Please refrain from any rough-housing until you get to your Common Room." Not looking very placated, Professor McGonagall sat back down. "One more thing of note, my children: The Forbidden Forest, as always, remains Forbidden. Now, I believe it is time we all tucked in! Thank you!" The Headmaster gathered up his trailing beard and got down from the dais.

"Merlin!" said Lucille, once people could start talking again. "Can you believe him?"

"Are you referring to Sirius Black or Professor Dumbledore?" Camilla, who was sitting on my other side, asked breathlessly, perhaps a little charmed despite herself. "Because I can believe anything of Sirius Black. Anything! That boy practically runs our school!"

I looked up from my writing, offended. "No, he does not! No, he does not, Camilla! And I won't hear a word otherwise! You want to know who runs our school? I will tell you: Albus Dumbledore runs our school. Not some trumped up schoolboy with a fetish for sparkly scarves!"

Lucille rolled her eyes. "Everyone knows you hate him. No need to go on about it every day and Sunday."

"I do not g—."

"_Who_ do you hate?" Tamara asked, focused intently on my face, and leaning in more to better hear my answer. "I never thought you could hate anybody, Evie! You're too nice!"

"Thank you," I said, surprised.

Lucille smiled at Tamara. "That was very nice, Tammy! But really, Evelyn, you're going to have to stop going on about him so much. He has spies! Any one of them could hear you. And then we'll be worse off than third year."

"Spies in Ravenclaw?" I asked. "I don't believe it."

"Believe it!" Lucille said, cocking her head in the direction of Fat Lump Mara Dice. I glanced over as well. Mara reportedly has the biggest, most gigantic crush ever on Sirius Black, and I am actually surprised I momentarily forgot this piece of Absolutely Vital Information. In the future, I need to stay more on top of things (note sarcasm). "She could squeeze you like a pimple," warned Lucille.

"Like one of her pimples," I muttered, going back to my food.

Tamara started giggling. "Evie!" she said, scandalized. "That's mean!"

"I am sorry," I replied. Not Contrite At All. "I'm a bad influence on you. You shouldn't listen to me."

"True," Lucy said, and then actually proceeded to coax Tamara's attention away from me and onto the serving dishes. Ah, good girl.

I looked to my right at Camilla, wondering why she was being so this evening. "What's up?" I said. I gestured at the assortment of foods we had available; Camilla's plate was empty. Noting how thin she was already, this was not good. "Why aren't you eating? It's going to all disappear soon."

Camilla shrugged. "You know it replenishes anyway. And I'm not hungry."

"It doesn't matter. Big night ahead and all. You should be eating. What with trudging up to The Common Room and going straight to bed. You need your energy to sleep, baby girl!"

"I'll get something in a few," Camilla assured me. "I just want to think for a minute."

I waited a long minute, hoping Cam would enlighten me as to what she wanted to think about. "Yes?"

"I miss Alex," she mumbled finally. "We shouldn't have broken up."

I gasped. "Blasphemer!"

"It's true!" Camilla maintained. "We were good together, you know it! Two years, Evie! He's the only boy I've ever known! What am I supposed to do now that he's gone?"

"You're supposed to not be thinking about him!" I told her. "It's our Cardinal Rule. We made up a whole list, remember? And what was at the top? No Thinking About Alex Riktus Whatsoever."

"It was a stupid list," grumbled Camilla. "I shouldn't have to stick by it. Rules were meant to change. I'm thinking of getting back together with him, anyway."

"Has he said something to you?" I asked suspiciously. One of my jobs as Best Friend was to make sure this did not happen. Camilla was not meant to be with Alexander Riktus. Riktus, being a devil-worshipper, it boded ill for their future offspring. "You should tell me if he is harassing you. I'll bring it up at the next Prefects' Meeting. Featherbutt should be able to do something about it."

Camilla laughed, momentarily diverted by the topic at hand—what you, Dear Reader, will soon come to know as, The Great Anthony Featherbutt Debate. "His name is Feather_head," _she corrected. "He can't like you calling him that. And why do you, by the way? I've forgotten."

I smirked in remembrance. "I transfigured a bird's tail onto his arse once. It was magnificent."

"_You_ did that!"

"_Keep it down!" _I said, making sure the only people who overheard were people I was comfortable with overhearing (i.e. one other person: Lucy). "No one really knows! They think Lucius Malfoy did it."

"But you look nothing like him!" Camilla said. "Why would they think that?"

"Having your arse transfigured by a Slytherin boy, especially one who graduated four years ago, is infinitely more manly-sounding than having it transfigured by a _girl,"_ I replied with a snicker. "And Anthony swore me not to tell. It was his price for not running to a professor and making me serve detention. Though I think he was being unjust. He started it. He was the one who tripped me up in the hallway and made me rip my tights. I really liked those tights. They were never the same after that. Not even my mum could _reparo_ them."

"It's 'Anthony' now, is it?" Camilla asked, latching onto the only thing that would naturally interest her. "Intriguing!"

"Not really. He's pretty boring, if you ever get a chance to talk with him."

Camilla shook her head. "No. I meant that—."

"Look!" I interrupted, pointing at the table with my fork. "Scalloped potatoes! Yum! May I serve you some?"

_Ravenclaw 6th year Girl's Dorm Room._

"So, to commence our meeting of the minds, Evie, will you give us a speech?"

Confused, and absolutely not wanting to give a speech at all, I said, "But I thought I was doing the minutes! I always do the minutes!"

"Will you just say something already?" Mara Dice exclaimed, yanking a pillow away from her eyes and glaring at me. She was sitting up in bed, looking like a big frou-frou spotty elephant. "I hate that we have to do this. _Why_ do we have to do this every year? I just want some fucking sleep. I don't even _like _you that much!"

"Hey!" Lucille barked, coming to my defense, as I looked to be made speechless by Mara's tactlessness. "You know this is Tradition. You _know_ we have to do this. Once you graduate, Mara, I am sure you will have fond memories of this. Mark my words."

"I hate all of you!" Mara grumbled. "But, continue, Ransom." She gave me a rather nasty smile. "Make your speech. I know how good of a public speaker you are! Third year, wasn't it, when you wet your pants?"

"I thought we weren't set on the speech-maker yet," I said, valiantly disregarding her. I hated Bad Attention. It made me go all splotchy. "I am a much better note-taker. I don't see why Lucille ca—."

"Fine!" Lucille interrupted. "I'll do it." She paused to clear her throat. "…On this day, Wednesday, September 1st, 1976, the 6th year Ravenclaw Girls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry hereby acknowledge and welcome the coming year into our minds and hearts and bodies, in the specific hope that at term's end in July, we will have accomplished what we set out to accomplish ten months ago."

"And what was that?" Camilla asked the room.

I was already flipping through my journal.

"I can't find it," I told her apologetically. "I forgot that I start a new one each summer."

"Oh, for _Merlin's_ sake!" Mara said. "Get this over with, Lucille!"

"Fine," said Lucy. "Everyone, grab the hand of the person sitting next to you."

"I am not getting up!" Mara felt the need to remind us. "I am all tucked in. And I am not touching sticky Camilla's hand anyway. She probably has semen smeared all over it!"

I frowned. "Hey!"

"This isn't _my _tradition," Mara added.

"It used to be," whispered Lucille. "Before you went all Betrayer on us."

"What was that?" Mara asked.

"Nothing," I said. "Why don't you go to sleep? I agree with you about this not involving you. You are, in fact, ruining the peaceful environment that we've been trying to establish for the past fifteen minutes."

"_Fine!" _said Mara, immediately picking up her wand and spelling her bed curtains shut. Camilla and I exchanged pleased glances when she added a Silencing Charm; that meant we could gossip about Mara all we wanted and she wouldn't be any the wiser as to what we were talking about.

I gave a salute. "Well rid of you, fat beast!" I turned my head only to receive Lucy's severe look.

"You didn't have to do that," she said. "You could have been more diplomatic about it."

"In the future," I said, "Tamara will handle all our diplomacy."

"What's 'diplomacy'?" Tamara asked, sounding pleased that she was finally being addressed.

I gave her a wary look. "Pardon?"

"_Let's finish up!" _Lucille ordered loudly. "What are all our wishes for this year?"

"I would like to get a boyfriend!" said Tamara at once.

"Well, that should be easy." I smiled at her, envying for a moment her glossy brown hair and perfect tan skin. Boys liked shiny things. "You get hit on all the time."

"That is true," said Lucille. "I can help you there." Lucille smiled at all of us around the circle. I felt her squeeze my hand. "My wish is for me to do better in Astronomy."

"An admirable one!" I replied, wanting to encourage staying on topics other than that of Boys for fear we would all get a bit too silly. Astronomy was a good choice. A quick glance at Camilla told me that she didn't quite appreciate this change in subject.

"What about you, Evie?" Tamara asked.

I paused, remembering #1 on My List from earlier today. "I would like to get on The Quidditch Team," I admitted.

"Really?" Lucy said. I had no way to tell if her enthusiasm was faked. _"That's great!_ Have you been prac—?"

"_I_ have a wish," Camilla put in before Lucy could finish her sentence. "Like Tamara, I'd like to get a boyfriend. Preferably the one I just had."

I started groaning. "Camilla!"

"_What?"_


	3. Chapter 3

_Ravenclaw 6__th__ Year Girls' Dorm Room._

Morning.

The sun is stubborn and ignoring my threats, shining through the window and right into my face. I woke with my bed curtains hanging open.

I am not sure what this means; if Camilla or Lucille, or dare I suggest it, Mara, pulled some prank on me, but I hope nothing dire has happened. Mornings are not my thing. And until a spell comes along that makes them my thing, I will continue not liking them. Which is why the person who opened my curtains is going to pay in blood! If I can remember my anger when I find her.

What I really dislike is what morning _means. _I know I said I wanted classes to start the very day after The Welcoming Feast, but I do not want that anymore. I do not want classes to start at all. I want more sleep, dammit. It is not proper to be up before your stomach is ready to be up. It brings about ill health!

We are leaving to get some breakfast, and the clock is ticking, making my tummy rumble all the more—and not in a good way. Considering I am not the world's thinnest witch, it is amazing to me that I am forever feeling queasy. It could have something to do with my nerves about classes starting—this morning especially, as Lucille and I have Double Potions together right at 0800 and that is my hardest class—but I sometimes like to entertain myself with the idea that I have some disgusting bowel disease, like IBS, or some ulcer of the stomach and therefore cannot function in normal society when I am around food. I know both of these are Muggle ailments, but Muggle culture fascinates me, and I read a lot of Muggle literature to understand it more, so I do not think it is too far-fetched an idea that I have _wished _some sicknesses on me.

For instance: Tamara P. is a Muggleborn and suffers from a heart murmur and enlarged thyroid gland. To my knowledge and complete incomprehension, she has not told anyone aside from me and Madam Poppy Pomfrey about it. If I could take Tamara's bad heart away from her and give her my good one, I would. But do not tell her I told you that, because I have just re-read this, and it makes me even queasier than I already was.

"Are we coming?" The "Royal-we." And it sounds exasperated. I don't really understand why we all like to use The "Royal-we," but Merlin knows I say it all the time.

I closed my notebook_—sigh—_and gathered up my other school things, including my thermos of water that I had filled in the bathroom, and, most importantly, my wand. "Yes!" I looked around and made sure I really had not forgotten anything. "I am ready."

"Well good, because we've been waiting for you to finish writing for fifteen minutes!" said Lucille.

"It hasn't been that long, surely?"

"Oh yes!" she said. "You were too slow. Camilla and Tammy are actually waiting downstairs for you to get your fat lump of an arse moving."

Taking exception to that, I said, "I do not have a fat lump of an arse, and you know it! It's actually quite a nice bottom." I paused. "…Would you like to touch it?"

"No!" cried Lucille. I am not sure it warranted a cry since she knew I was only bluffing, but no matter. "I would not!" She started walking hurriedly. "Now, let's go!"

Soaking into the spirit of the march, I followed Lucille down the twisting stairway of Ravenclaw Tower and into our Common Room.

Camilla immediately stood up from one of the chaises. "You're here! Finally! You don't know how long I've been waiting for this breakfast. My stomach is eating itself right now."

"So's mine," I commented, hiding a grimace.

_Potions Classroom._

One thing you have to understand about Professor Slughorn is that He Means Well. He may be odd and a sycophant but he's sincere in his efforts most of the time.

Privately in my thoughts, I usually have no patience for people who only mean well, but Horace Slughorn is a different case.

For one, he is my professor and in charge of my grade, so if he is odd sometimes, then that is his business. And for two, contrary to what others might have you think, he is really not a bad man. He is not a Death Eater for instance. even though these days, "not a Death Eater" is basically like saying, "Well, at least he's not Satan," I find it is a good description of Professor Slughorn's character. He is _not_ a Death Eater. Meaning, as Annoying as Professor Slughorn can be, he is at the very least, his own man.

"Miss Ransom? _Miss Ransom!" _And that means a lot. "Miss Ransom!"

I felt Lucille kick me. "Yes, Professor?"

Squat Professor Slughorn smiled like he and I and Lucille were both in on some Big Joke. "Thank you for taking such diligent notes, Miss Ransom! But in the future, I would like it more if you didn't get so absorbed. I have been calling your name for the past minute, and in the end I had to enlist Miss Sawyers's help. It would not be a good thing at all if an accident were about to occur and we couldn't move you to a safe location because you were off in your own world! Now, I know Potions is your favorite subject, but…"

Ah yes. Over the summer I forgot how long-winded Professor Slughorn could be. My mind worked furiously to tune him out.

"Class dismissed."

"_What?"_

The class started laughing. "I see one thing can still get your attention, Ms. Ransom!" Professor Slughorn said good-naturedly. "Pity, it is not me! Oh, to be so young and full of life!"

I blushed. "Sorry, Professor." I actively wished class _would _end now. Advanced Potions was not turning out to be a favorite—how it could when it was the only NEWT level class I've had so far, I don't know, but I did like Potions well enough when everyone else's minds were on their own business and not my own.

"Now to move on!" Professor Slughorn said, with a wink directed my way, "I would like to briefly go over the potion we are brewing this morning; a thin, clear liquid most of you know as, Doxycide."

Over in the corner, Samariah Smith, a Hufflepuff who was partnered with Mara, raised her hand uncertainly.

"Yes, Miss Smith?" Professor Slughorn said.

"Sir," Smith said, "Isn't Doxycide extremely flammable? Only I heard it—."

Professor Slughorn chuckled. "Not to worry, Miss Smith!" He addressed the class as a whole, "And anyone else who has any reservations about our brewing this, please, do not worry! In a controlled environment, with a Potions Master at hand, like myself, the brewing of Doxycide can be a fun and enlightening experience! Do not cavil just yet! We're going to give it a try and see how we do."

During the next hour and a half, Slughorn walked around the room with his hands behind his back, whistling what sounded suspiciously like a Rollicking Warlock song. As his known favorite for 6th year, my potion was given more scrutinized attention I imagine a pot of cream gets from McGonagall when she's in cat form. I should be used to Professor Slughorn standing behind my back and breathing on me, but as it happens, one never gets used to that sort of thing. Lucille and Camilla like to joke that he's in love with me, but that's such a repelling thought that it literally makes me shiver.

I am sure he's not in love with me!

I am sure Slughorn's just being Sluggy and loving his Potions. And because I like brewing Potions as well, he's found a protégée.

I am sure it is nothing sinister.

I am also sure all this talking about Professor Slughorn is setting the scene for something exciting later on, but please do not be fooled. If there is one thing you can be assured I won't write about, it is a romance with Horace Slughorn.

_The Great Hall._

"So!" Camilla and Tamara joined us at The Table. "How were classes?"

Lucille scoffed. "McGonagall's out to get me again!" she said. "First day, and how many points does that blousy crow take away from me?"

Tamara took the bait. "How many?"

"Fifteen!" Lucille said, banging a fist on The Table, and making people look over. "She took away _fifteen_ points!"

Camilla frowned. "That is a bit harsh, even for McGonagall," she agreed. Tamara nodded her head and Lucille actually glared at me until I followed suit. "Did you stay after to ask her about it?" Cam asked.

"Yes!" Lucille said grumpily.

"And what did she say?"

"She said that she was disappointed I couldn't at least hold off on passing notes until she was finished speaking. But I wasn't passing notes! Stuart Diggory from Hufflepuff handed a note to Evelyn, but that was it. And it wasn't even from him! If anything, Evie and Diggory should have gotten the de—."

"Who was the note from?" asked Camilla. Lucille refused to answer and decided instead to apply herself to eating her ham sandwich. "Lucy?" Camilla looked to me. "Evie, who was the note from?"

I grinned hugely. "Remus _Lu_pin!"

Tamara started clapping her hands. "Oh!"

_The Grounds_

Rewind.

I am sure you are all just as confused as me as to what happened. Did a page or two fall out from my journal? Did I forget to write the Blessed Event down?

No and no.

I have just needed at least five hours to digest what happened in McGonagall's classroom this morning, because as so far as I know, Lucy has never talked to a boy.

Not that she's a lesbian.

And not that there is anything wrong with Lesbians in general—actually, it would fit in quite nicely with Lucille's personality. And not that we have not talked about this topic before. But not about Lucille and not about this Specific Event.

The Big News You Only Heard A Smidge Of Previously is as follows:

Remus Lupin apparently has a bit of a fancy for Lucille.

!!

That is the only reason Camilla and Tamara can come up with for why this particular Gryffindor 7th year has suddenly decided to pay attention to our particular friend.

It's a good guess, I suppose. And one with merit, because Lucille just so happens to be outrageously good-looking.

In the beginning of 5th year, when Lucille came back from Summer Break looking like a Nubile Young Woman, none of the boys could keep their eyes off of her. They whistled and fondled as she came down the hallway, and some days, Lucille had to resort to using Bubble-Body Charms just to get to class unmolested. It was awful, really.

It became increasingly hard to just have a proper conversation with her, because Lucille was always on the look-out, always paranoid that some arsehole would jump out from nowhere and sit next to her and (horror of horrors!) strike up a conversation. From our years as wallflowers, Lucille never really knew how to deal with talking to boys, so she would always remain silent and still. And as a result, for about a year. she was always very short with us.

I could feel Lucille's desperation to ignore the boys like a physical thing, and in the end, the attention worked the wrong way, and she became cynical. The more cynical Lucille became, the harder it was for the boys to talk to her, and eventually, most stopped trying.

As a self-proclaimed "ugly duckling,"—excuse me while I laugh for a minute—Luce is now so against superficial surfaces, that anyone who is even remotely, passably good-looking immediately drops several degrees in her esteem. If you are thick, do not bother talking to Lucille unless you just happen to be ugly as well, because that means she can pity you.

But if you are thick and _handsome,_ well, my friend, there is no hope for you.

Most teenage boys are thick—thick as pig shit—so this is why you will never see Lucille talking to one.

Unless, apparently, that boy happens to be named Remus Lupin.

I am still suspicious however.

Remus Lupin is best friends with Sirius Black and James Potter (There is another boy among them who is just as well-known among Hogwarts' denizens, named Peter Pettigrew, but honestly, as sweet-faced as he is, he simply does not compare to the smorgasbord of good looks that is the previous trio!). In my experience, all good-looking boys have agendas. It is just up to us girls to figure out what in Merlin's name they are about. To find out a good-looking boy wants to pass notes with one of my dearest friends, causing said dearest friend to giggle _(giggle!),_ well…

I have already done a Spell-Check. Lupin hasn't sent anything Lucille's way.

And Lucille did not take an Excitable Draught this morning, before attending Transfiguration Class.

Something is still in the air however, and mark me, it is not love.

_Transfiguration Classroom, Five Hours Previous._

"Pst! Pst!"

"What the hell?" Since Lucille would not turn her head, I felt I had to. "What is going on?" A tanned hand with a signet ring on the pinky finger appeared, handing over a crumpled piece of paper. I took it automatically. "What am I supposed to do with this?" I asked, wondering why Stuart Diggory was giving me trash. The days when Stuart Diggory could give me trash were long over.

"It's for Sawyers," Diggory told me, going back to his work. McGonagall was currently giving us The Evil-Eye from a faraway position behind her desk, and because of this I had no doubt detention—unpalatable as it was since I've never had one—was in our future for tonight.

Only slightly annoyed, I nevertheless replied, "Lucille's sitting right next to me, Dimmory. You can't give it to her? Go on, just reach a bit more. I know you can do it!"

"I can't," whispered Diggory, moving his lips as little as possible. "McGonagall could look over."

"She's looking over now," I said. "And what prevented you from waiting 'til after class, then?" Diggory, the fool, kept his head down. "Hufflepuffs," I murmured—hopefully sounding derogatory; though not loud enough for The Intended to hear me. "Luce," I nudged her unnecessarily—Lucille was already holding out her hand under the table. "You've got a love-note."

_"It's not from me!" _was Diggory's hiss.

"Fine," I said, not bothering to turn around. "Luce, if you would be so kind: read the note that is not from Diggory, but sent via him."

"I'll read it after class," she said.

I did not like that at all. "Lucy Sawyers, you will read that note right now!"

"You can't make me!" said Lucille primly. "I am my own person, and I'd like to see you try."

"Lucy Sawyers!"

"Stop it!" Lucy commanded. "McGonagall is looking over."

If anything can bring me around to attention, it is the inevitable, verbal chastising of a professor, so for the next ten minutes, I was a very good girl and said not a word to Lucille about anything—even when I heard her giggle.

"Has everyone finished copying down the assignment for Wednesday?" Professor McGonagall asked the class. We all nodded. "Good." The professor made a pretense of looking around the room for a volunteer until her eyes settled on me. "…Miss Ransom!" she called finally. "Please come up here and demonstrate The Animus Spell."

The class—filled to the brim with Ravenclaws and Slytherins and just a scant few Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors alike—groaned; groaned, because everyone knows I am awesome at Transfiguration, and naturally, these points are mine.

After class, McGonagall did indeed make Diggory and I stay behind; though with us was also Lucille.

"I am very disappointed in you!" the professor began with pursed lips, eyes looking over the tops of her bifocal glasses, "Very disappointed." All three of us made an effort to hold up our heads and meet McGonagall's stare, but _Merlin, _was it hard-going. "Very disappointed. Miss Sawyers, Miss Ransom, it was my hope that the summer break would have taught you two some discipline, but it seems I am wrong. You are just as bad, if not worse, than last year! Giggling like little ninny hammers! It's disgraceful!" Professor McGonagall paused, evidently waiting for Lucille and me to comment.

"Sorry, Professor McGonagall," I said.

"Sorry, Professor McGonagall," Lucille echoed. Diggory remained silent, though I knew he was grinning with triumph on the inside for not getting the figurative slap on the wrist as well.

McGonagall nodded. "You will find that NEWT Transfiguration is a Serious Class," she said. "We study Serious Things here. And I want you both to Seriously Consider why you are in this class now. If things do not look up, if your behavior does not improve, well, I do not see any reason for allowing you to remain in my NEWT class. Is that what you want?" Professor McGonagall demanded. "To be kicked out?"

"No, ma'am!" I said.

"No, ma'am," Lucille echoed. I was pleasantly surprised to see that Professor McGonagall evidently meant Diggory to answer as well; and so he did.

"No, ma'am," he said.

The professor stared us down for another half-minute. During which I began to get Very Bored. "Very well," she said finally, already beginning to shuffle the papers on her desk into a neat pile. I believe this was done in an effort to drive home the fact that we were no longer important. "You may go."

Lucille and I started to trudge out.

"Miss Sawyers!" called Professor McGonagall, halting all three of us. "Please come back for a minute! Mr. Diggory, Miss Ransom, you may both go."

"Ah," I said.

Free from the room, Diggory walked away without any goodbye to me whatsoever. I comforted myself with a sneer at his back, wishing Dire Things To Happen To His Genetalia. Lacking the courage to enact an Eavesdropping Charm on Professor McGonagall's door, I waited Lucy out.

Twenty seconds later, she joined me outside the classroom.

"Well?" I said.

"Well what?" responded Lucille annoyingly.

"Did she make you give her the note?"

"Of course."

I sighed. "Figures." Following a hunch I asked, "Did you get to read it during class, though?"

I wasn't surprised when Lucy only shrugged.


	4. Chapter 4

_The Great Hall._

I have a problem with my peers, and that problem is that I just do not seem to get along with most of them. Camilla, Lucille, even sometimes Tamara, they're alright (they are actually fabulous sometimes, and I do love them, promise, even if I have a bad way of showing it). The rest of the girls in my year however, well, I think can rot. They can die. And I would actually prefer it if they did.

Or at least shut the fuck up once in a while so I can get some peace and quiet.

Most children, I have found, are products of neglectful parents. My mum certainly never let me run around throwing bits of demolished Wizard Chess pieces at my mates. Nor did she allow me free reign with my wand; even after I turned eleven and was out of her reach. Genuine fear of her wrath has always held sway over my baser desires. But students these days…they have no self-control. These people are fifteen and sixteen years old for Merlin's sake. They should not be behaving like heathens. But they are. As a prefect, I have a ready mind to start throwing some spells.

"Ah, got you now, you sneaky thing! How's it feel to be the one hit in the nose this time, huh? Huh?"

I came back from Dinner, and this is what started happening. The dessert gave everyone a massive sugar high and people are literally jumping around and smashing things. Not just chess pieces either, but other peoples' heads.

#1: There goes the normally very staid Quirinus Quirrel, hopping his way across Patrick Carrington's neck.

#2: In another corner, we (note use of The "Royal we") have Heathcote Barbary trying to fly his broom around the room. Only the ceiling's not high enough for that, Heathcote, you are going to crack the top of your head…

This kind of behavior smacks of Sirius Black's influence. Suspicious, I waved a diagnostic spell. _"Comperiō!"_ The entirety of Hogwarts was most likely drugged with some type of Happy Potion or Euphoria Elixir and it'll turn into a stupid mess because in a minute, I'll have to alert Flitwick, who will alert Dumbledore, who will then lightly reprimand Black with a swat on the bum or some sort of therapist session involving lemon drops and Calming Draughts—which we all know isn't really a reprimand at all.

"Evelyn ! That is a Restricted Section spell!"

"Oh, hush, you great marmee!"

"This is a common occurrence! Every year! Just wait it out." Despite evidence to the nefarious goings-on, Lucille seems to disagree that harsher measures are indeed needed.

Camilla is on my side at least. Huddling in the corner, avoiding falling plaster, she obviously finds it odd that every Ravenclaw in our Common Room—except for the ones who had too much to talk about to eat much of their dinner—has suddenly and inexplicably turned feral.

Tamara, unsurprisingly, is uncertain and does not know whom to believe.

Lucille is just embarrassed that on the day she received a note from her Future Husband, said Future Husband screwed her over by pulling a prank with his Stupid Bastard Friends. She does not want to admit that she reeled in a dead fish this time. And who would, really? Funnily enough, Remus Lupin's face resembles that of a fish skewered on a hook, so my comparison is not far off. I'm sure their children will be half-fish-half-man and be shunned by proper society so Lucille's well rid of him now.

I spent the next two minutes trying to convince myself boys my age were inconsequential.

So: getting back to what I was talking about when I was going on about my peers:

I will probably, some where down the line once I get older, come up with a different opinion, but for now suffice to say that I think being a teenager is the most awful time of any person's life whether that person be female or male. Especially being a young teenager. They are all full of piss and vinegar and smell like poo and never bathe and are rotten as week-old socks. They are mean to everyone. As you have guessed, I have a sibling who is young and he is the Most Horrendous Thing On This Planet.

If I have not mentioned my brother before, his name is Apollon, and he really does not care that I am a Prefect. He is glaring at me right now because I have stopped him from causing any more damage to his person by tying him up.

The occasion of Apollon glaring at me isn't really an occasion at all, however. In fact, it is downright commonplace.

Apollon always glares at me.

I believe Polly was born like this.

The Story goes that he came out of our mother's womb with a sneer on his face, ordering the Mediwife to cut the damn cord already so he could breathe on his own. Over the years, Polly has only grown more Unnatural. Added to His Unnaturalness, Apollon has turned into an Unbelievably Arrogant Human; which makes him a person I just cannot stand to be around (arrogance being a trait I will not condone in anybody aside from me…oh how the hypocrites do talk, Evelyn!)

Cue another example to the terror that is Polly: late last Sunday evening, while Camilla and I were holed up in our dorm room, quizzing each other on Charms for our exam this morning, some strange girl barges in our room, all supposed feminine fury in her night robe, slippers, and streaming golden hair, demanding that I pay Polly a weekly stipend for having the privilege of living with him! Polly apparently paid this girl to perform the service, and her fury was therefore genuine for it was tinged with desperation to get her cut of the money.

My response to the girl of course was "I do not live with my brother, I live with my fellow sixth-year dorm mates, and even though I know it is a hard concept to grasp, that girls live independent lives from their counterparts, could you please still vacate the premises so my friend I could get back to our work?"

Polly's Hireling took offense to this, whipping out her wand and threatening my beloved midnight blue bed hangings with a Singeing if I did not comply right away and pay up right now—this night apparently being the weekly stipend starter.

Why Polly had told this girl to do such a thing is, sadly, not beyond my understanding. I know he wants to purchase the new treatise on _Central Anatolian Magical-Muggle Relations During the Iron Age_ and is out of pocket money at the moment (I understand his desire perfectly as I want that book as well) and felt the only way he could achieve this end was to Infect Young Girls With His Hysteria.

The very fact that Polly's Hireling knew the incantation for Singeing is what is so deplorable. I was fully tempted to call the girl out on her bluff, but knew in the end, it was possible that Polly had actually taught her the charm. I taught it to Polly last year, thinking it would be great fun to get his hopes up when he found out that due to his small magical core, he unable to produce more than a few angry sparks. But woe, as Nature would have it, Polly prevailed and I Lost (and he is now fully driving home the fact that he is an Obvious Child Prodigy while I am only slightly above mediocre in my spells).

Eventually, Polly's Girl left the room, after I very threateningly arose from my perch on my bed and stalked her to the door with my wand at her throat, snarling something along the lines of, "You will not sleep, you will not be able to eat, for knowing that I will somehow destroy you, pitiful peon!"

I thought my snarls were very effective, but Camilla doesn't approve of my handling of the situation. She has told me countless times in the past how she feels I could be a bit nicer to children in general and Polly in particular, but she doesn't understand that you need to employ a firm hand with the young devils. See how they try to walk all over me even with liberal use of a lariat? They need to demonstrate proper cow-towing before I'll relinquish my ferocity. Camilla maintains, however, that Polly is going through a tough time right now what with being shorter than all the females in his class and discovering girls are not Diseased Rodents after all, and what he needs is a good ear and a shoulder to lean on, not whatever it is I delight in doling out.

I disagree very much.

Apollon Antonius did not even have The Temerity to try and talk to me about His Money Situation himself, for one—he had to hire out for it. And two, Camilla does not understand anything, because she does not have a younger sibling of her own to mold and protect, and is in fact an only child. Also, she is no longer a Prefect. Leave lions to the lion-tamers and falcons to the falconers, I say.

Hmmm. Perhaps this is why Camilla is always trying to find the good in people?

Because she just doesn't quite realize yet that it is not there?

For the life of me, I have never understood how she could carry on a conversation with Alexander Riktus.

Soon I think, Camilla, and all my friends alike, will find out that every single boy is evil. They will find out—and I will be there to console, because it is what I will have to do in a situation like that.

(Edit: Straight from The Source, it turns out I was right, and Camilla never really had any Proper Conversation with Alexander Riktus in the two years that they went out. Guess as to what they spent their free time doing!)

Now it is the day after The Night of Great Excitement, and everyone is settling in to their new routines. All morning, people have been trudging slowly into The Great Hall looking hung-over and dizzy-eyed. I am actually quite smug.

I must make a note to myself to watch Sirius Black at The Gryffindor Table from now on before I touch my food so I remain my smug, superior way. If any Stuff Is About To Go Down, I want to be able to recognize its happening before it happens.

Only way to do that is to stare at Black. Really, that is the only reason I am looking at him.

_The Charms Classroom._

"Just a warning," Lucille said, breaking me out of my thoughts. It was late into the afternoon, almost evening really, and she and I had decided to stay behind in The Charms Classroom to work on some Extra Credit for Professor Flitwick.

(Edit: I should note here to readers that Staying After was Lucille's idea, as I would never voluntarily work harder in a class I can get an Outstanding in without studying; but Lucille physically made me)

"Yes?"

"Evans is coming this way."

"Oh, really?" I slipped my journal into my pack nonchalantly—nonchalantly, because anything more hurried would get Evans's attention on my bag like the sweet scent on piss (she's Curious like that)—and turned around.

Lily Evans. I know I have not told you this before, but she is pretty much my closet-nemesis when it comes to School Matters. She's a year older and Head Girl and a Gryffindor and has perfect red hair and fairy skin, and also has what seems a very large Animosity towards James Potter—the second biggest berk to every grace the halls of Hogwarts. All these things (the last one especially) combined place her somewhere in the realm of Annoying-Female-Who-I-Just-Can't-Help-But-Like-Sometimes, and so I tolerate her. "What does she want, do you think?" Due to Sunday and last night's debacles, I was secretly horrified that our Head Girl would want to seek me out at all.

"Probably to talk to you about some Prefect thing," Lucy suggested.

"Hmm," I murmured, a second before Evans joined our tiny group in the Charms classroom.

According to Lucille's Muggle watch, Dinner would be starting in ten minutes, so Lily Evans had better not intend to give me a lecture about last night. No Siree! How the Head Girl could find out so quickly that I tied five twelve-year-olds and two seventeen-year-olds together, I do not know, but Magic can be mysterious like that sometimes. "Hello, Lily," I greeted amiably.

"Evelyn," she said, nodding at me—all proper Head Girl decorum. "Lucille. May I talk with you for a second, Evelyn?"

"Is it important?"

Lily Evans's red brows puckered. "Yes, of course! I won't take up much of your time. Only I have a favor to ask."

"Alright," I said, perfectly amenable, now that I knew that the (allegedly) smartest witch in Hogwarts wanted a boon. "We'll go over by the window, how's that?"

Evans smiled. "Great."

"So?" I said, leaning against the sill, affecting poise and snobbishness.

"So…right!" Evans cleared her throat. "I have a friend…actually this is more in the realms of me being a Concerned Student."

"Go on," I said.

"Right, well, Sirius Black, you know him, right?"

My breath went rank. _"No."_

Evans blinked, surprised. "I'm sorry, you _don't _know him?" I could hear her exact thoughts as she thought them: How could this be? How you _not _know Sirius Black?

"No, I do know him," I told her. "What I meant was: no, I won't do it. Whatever it is."

"But you haven't even heard my offer yet," Evans protested.

"If it involves that…Lothario," I began, only to be interrupted.

"But he's not as bad as that!" said Evans. "I promise! I mean, yes, he does have a dreadful reputation, but it's not like I am asking you to _date_ him!"

I snorted. "Fool wishes!"

Evans went on, "If anything, I am asking you to _take away_ from the time he would spend dating to tutor him!"

"Does he know you're asking me?" I said, wondering where all this was coming from. I also doubted Evans really believed "He's not as bad as that!" If only for the Simple Reason that—yes, you've guessed it!—Sirius Black _is_ as bad as that. Worse.

Worser than Worse.

He is literally the Grinch.

"No, he doesn't," Evans admitted, and for some horrible reason—even though I tried to control it—this made me deflate a little on the inside. "But he _needs _a tutor," Evans said, "he really, _really_ does!"

"Hypothetically," I said, periodically glancing over at Lucille making faces behind Evans's back, "what would I be tutoring him in? I heard he's pretty smart anyway. What does he need mefor? I'm not even in his year."

"But you're smart," Evans said promptly. "Especially in History of Magic, which he's just awful at."

"But that class is just studying," I answered. "That has nothing at all to do with skill. Sounds to me like he's just a lazy arse who doesn't want to try."

"All of that's right," Evans said, "but I _know _you, Evelyn. I know you can somehow make it interesting for him. You _love_ history. I've seen the books you carry around. You're always writing in that journal of yours."

Feeling suddenly overcome and paranoid, I snapped back like a cornered turtle. "I am not giving it to you!" _Why _did everyone want my journal these days? All of last year, that's all I heard. Everyone wanted to either read it, or they wanted me to stop writing in it. Everyone! _Everyone._ "I am _sick_ of people asking me that," I said. "No, I will not push it on a publisher. _No,_ I will not give it to Dumbled—."

"That's not what I meant!" said Evans, ending my tirade. "I was just trying to make a point on how you're more literature-minded than the average person your age. How that's a _good_ thing. Especially if you're going to be encouraging Sirius to read more!"

I said absolutely nothing for a couple moments.

Over Evans's head, Lucy was now giving me questioning looks.

_What is wrong? Do I need to come over there and beat her?_

Lucille had an Annoyance with The Head-Girl as well; however, it wasn't genuine, and had to do with them owning the same pair of pink Gladrags' boots.

I shook my head. "I need some time to talk it over with my friends," I said, making sure Lucille overheard me.

"What? Why?"

"Well, I can't make decisions for myself, obviously. I need their guiding light to…" I put up my hands. "Light my way!"

"Are you serious?"

"Partially. As much fun as it'd be, getting insulted and molested by Black, I think I still need to get someone else's opinion before I let him near me." At Evans's surprise I added, "For the greater good, you understand, Lily."

"But Sirius won't _molest _you!" she said. "On the contrary! He—."

My lips quirked. "Oh, so you think I'm not molestation-worthy? Lily, that's not very nice."

"That's not what I meant!" Evans said, all Head Girl pomp and outrage. "You're putting words in my mouth!"

"I'll try not to from now on."

Evans nodded. "Good." She looked hopeful again. "Good. Well, if you could think about it…only I'm just concerned he's going to fail…"

Sirius Black should fail. His misery would make my year.

"I'll think about it. Though, no promises."

"That's all I ask. That you think about it. Take your time. Though, I would like to have an answer by dinner tonight? If it's at all possible?"

"Done," I said, while my head screamed at me, _"Not_ done! _Not_ done!" I glanced at Lucille. She immediately walked over after Evans left the classroom.

"Did I hear right?" Lucille said. "Lily Evans is commissioning _you_ to tutor _Sirius Black?"_

"It's not for sure," I prevaricated, pleased at the attention she was giving me. "Nothing's for sure."

"Oh, come on!" Lucy said, flicking me on the shoulder. "It's in the bag! It's Sirius _Black."_

"Really?" I said. "I didn't know it was _Sirius_ Black. I thought it was Regulus! Or some cousin of Sirius's. How remiss I have been!"

"Come off it!" replied Lucy. "You know you're going to do it."

I shrugged. "I might not. Maybe he should _ask me_ if he really wants a tutor. Sounds to me like he's completely unaware of what's going on…behind his _back,_ even…" I paused, considering this New Piece of Information.

"On that note!" Lucille encouraged.

I nodded. "On that note, it might actually be fun!"

In American-fashion, we high-fived each other. "That's my girl!" Lucy said. "Now come. Dinner awaits."

See? I knew this year would be just chock-full of Interesting Things.

I knew it.


	5. Chapter 5

_Ravenclaw 6th Year Girls' Dorm Room._

Just woke up abruptly from a nap due to a very bad dream. In it, my mum and dad were having their Annual Family Tribunal—though it escapes me as to why they call it a "Family" Tribunal when kids are Not Allowed—and betrothing me to Nicolai Lestrange, who is a third year Slytherin and not at all good-looking; unless you like hawk-noses and I do not.

I am feeling paranoid and very much aware of the fact that other people still have power to control my livelihood.

In the future, I have to learn to not let my imagination run away with me before I take my naps. It only leads to bad things.

How awful would it be, really, to be betrothed to a third year?

I think pretty awful.

Looking around the room, I see Mara Dice is giving me one of Her Ugly Looks and that is cheering me right up, so I am good to go this afternoon! If that fat cow has anything to be unhappy over then everyone knows the rest of the day is going to be sunny and bright. Par for the course, I know anything can happen today, really, just as long as it is good and just as long as it is…

Exciting?

Perhaps I will just settle for things being good. Exciting Things have lately been wearing me out.

Testament to this statement is the entirety of the last seven days.

Also Testament is the goings on of last night, because Sirius Black and I had a mini-confrontation after my Patrolling Shift.

The arsehole, after finding out from his Head of House and Head Girl Lily Evans that he now had to take tutoring lessons in History of Magic from me, sneaked up to the 5th floor during my Shift, and laid in wait to ambush me on my way back into The Common Room. Stealth Guy from the M15 could not have waited until the next day because the situation was Too Dire for that apparently and he needed to see me a.s.a.p.

I knew Black could not—and still cannot, because he is a stupid, dim boy!—actually get in to Ravenclaw Tower on his own merit, but it is Not A Nice Feeling to see him attempt to creep into an environment I am usually quite content and comfortable in. I was not content or comfortable standing outside, staring at him last night, that is for certain.

Black was leaning against The Doorway to Ravenclaw Tower looking like he owned it when I turned the corner. He shocked about five years off my life. And I was very tempted to take points away from him for this, but I did not.

That may or may not have been a big mistake. We shall see.

The Giant Bollocks had the audacity to Yell at me—who has done nothing to him! I dislike confrontation, so this did not put me in a nice place for bedtime dreams at all. I actually have not been in a Nice Place all this morning. Until of course Camilla coerced me into an after-classes nap. I have the bad feeling I will not be content or comfortable tonight—or the next night or the night after that—because I cannot be sure Black has not decided he wants to come back and try it a second time and Re-Convince me that tutoring him is an Awful Idea.

I already know it is an awful idea; but I'm still going to do it.

Our Conversation Last Night went as follows:

"Um, hello?"

"Are you Ransom?" Black asked, still leaning against The Doorway. He gave off the distinct impression that I would have to move him bodily away from it if I wanted to get by. "Lily described you as having dark hair."

"I do have dark hair," I said, pointing out the obvious.

Sirius shook his head. "No," he said. "It's more tawny than dark."

"Did you need something?" I said, wanting to move the inevitable along.

Black shrugged. "Lil-_Evans_…told me that you've been picked by McGonagall to tutor me?" He stared somewhere between my eyebrows; belatedly I realized that he was asking a question and wanted me to nod my head, so I did. Black unfolded his arms and gave me probably what he thought was his Winning Smile. "I'm here to tell you that I don't need a tutor! So really, you don't have to waste your time trying to cram Binns's notes into my head, because I know it won't take. I've decided I'm going to drop the class, anyway. I don't know why I took it last year to begin with."

"Well, okay," I said, and then thought of something: "Does that mean I can go into my Common Room?"

Black barked with laughter. I wanted to sneer, but knew I didn't have the stones it required to do something like that to Hogwarts' Most Popular Student. Once Black realized I wasn't laughing with him, he calmed down. "You're funny!" he said. "What was your name again? Raisin?"

"Ransom," I corrected. _"_My first name is Evelyn."

"Eee-valyn," repeated Black, looking amused, drawing out the syllables. "That's an old lady's name!"

"It's Traditional," I said.

Black shrugged again. "Another word for 'old'."

"Well," I said. "Your name's not too hot, either, _Sirius."_

"Seriously?"

"Merlin's Blue Balls! That's not at all funny. You need to get a new joke."

"I thought it was," said Black. "Apparently, you have no sense of humor at all since you don't think so too. Too bad! I had such high hopes!"

"You just said I did have a sense of humor though," I reminded.

"Well, I changed my mind."

"Well, go away." I pantomimed Brushing Away A Fly by flapping my hand at him. "You've said what you came here to tell me. And you're blocking the entrance. I need to get in."

I had made the decision to move around Black, but for some strange reason my body wouldn't cooperate. I was stuck in the spot I had stopped in. Black still stood by the door, and I still stood five feet away; close enough to talk to but deliberately affecting standoffishness lest he get it into his head to perform more Antiquated Gryffindor Intimidation Techniques.

"Excuse me!" I said, hoping that might jumpstart my nerve and Get Me Out Of This Hallway once and for all. Black continued to give me a blank stare, like he did not understand. "But I really do have to go inside," I explained. "I have, ironically enough, History of Magic at 0900 tomorrow morning. I need my rest. So…"

Black moved away finally and gestured me in front of him.

"Thanks."

I watched him with wary eyes.

"Don't look so shocked!" said Black. "I'm not an ogre!" His stare became Squinty. "I'm sorry I've been holding you back for so long!"

"It's okay."

"So, just to make sure…" I sighed, but met his eyes. "You're not going to tutor me, am I right? Because it really is a stupid idea. If I'm not going to be in the class anyway, then there's no point!"

I gave a shrug of my own—this one, in my opinion, was much more Arrogant and elegant-looking than Black's could ever hope to be, because I have had much more practice.

Not sure if that's a compliment or not.

"It depends on your Head of House," I said to him. "It looks like we're both just pawns right now so I doubt what we want has any sway whatsoever."

"That's shite," said Black. "You can just make everything easy by refusing to tutor me. I know that you know McGonagall won't go for it any other way. I've heard things about you. You're Every Teacher's Pet."

"How do _you_ know?" I asked a bit testily. "You don't know me at all! You thought my name was, 'Raisin'not one minute ago."

"Raisin…Ransom."

"Arsehole…Asshole…" I had a second where I quelled under Black's stare but in the end I held strong. "You're right!" I said. "They sound remarkably similar! How extraordinary!"

"Take that back!" Black said.

I sighed. "You disappoint me! Where's all that venom I was so fond of in third year?"

For once, Black's face showcased a genuine emotion and that was confusion. "What are you talking about? I've been—."

"Nevermind, Black. I'll try to talk to McGonagall for you, but I have already had a similar conversation with her, and it turns out that if I help you, I not only get extra points in Transfiguration Class but I also get a long-winded recommendation for whatever career I want."

"But I don't want you to tutor me!" Black whined like a little boy.

"Well, all life can't be all flowery and peaches," I replied simply. "You get stung once in a while, and the juice turns sour, Black. This is putting me out too, if you haven't noticed. Before Evans told me you needed a tutor, I already had other Commitments I needed to handle." There was Quidditch, for instance. Try-outs were coming up and I had to practice.

Looking more shocked by me by the second, Black said, "So sorry I am inconveniencing you. But you know how to fix it!"

"I do."

"Then will you?"

"I'll think about it," I lied.

Black nodded. "See that you do. I am late for an appointment now…" I rolled my eyes. "But find me tomorrow during breakfast, alright? Tell me your final decision."

"Fine. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

_The Great Hall._

There are a lot of things I don't like about boys my age. Their Disgusting-ness. Their Arrogance (even when they are outwardly shy).

I think I hate Their Rudeness the most.

Sirius Black is a Rude Boy, and as such, I do not think I like him very much!

That last statement should be Unqualified and Obvious, but there are times when I feel that since he has ignored me so much over the past couple of years, Black no longer deserves all this animosity.

And then he does something like blow me off in front of everyone in The Great Hall, and I am reminded why I have stuck to my Disliking…ment of him since second-year.

"Well?" asked Lucille, as I grumpily sat back down at our Table. "What did he say to you?"

"He wouldn't even acknowledge me!" I said. "Wouldn't even look up. Kept giggling with his bosom friends."

"Oh!" said Tamara. "How _mean!"_

"Yes," I agreed. "See that I see he gets the worst time of it in the world after I talk with Flitwick. Thinks he can blow _me_ off!" I groused. "Well, not likely!"

"Why not ask Black's Head of House?" Lucille wondered.

"Flitwick is nicer!" I responded. "And he doesn't like Black."

"And McGonagall does?"

I nodded, because this was something I had put some thought into. "I think McGonagall puts up a front of being offended by Black and Potter and the rest of them, but secretly, she loves all of it! Secretly, she loves the fact that while it's true Black and Potter are very annoying, they're still two of the smartest wizards in their year, and she loves that she has them in Her House."

Cam blinked. "I see you've put some thought into this."

I nodded at her then preoccupied myself with tapping my goblet with my wand so The House Elves would fill it with Pumpkin Juice. "I have!"

"Well, what are we going to do about him, then?" Lucille burst finally, acting like she couldn't wait any longer to hold the question in. "Are you still going to tutor him?"

"Fuck yes, I am." Black's Snub had annoyed me like nothing else could. Down The Table, I saw Mara giving me a chilly wink. I will qualify, and say Black's Snub Had Annoyed Me Almost As Much as nothing else could. "I am going to be on that boy like a burr! Like the white on rice. He will have such a good grade when I am done with him…"

"In third year, you swore that you would never help him ever again," Lucille said. "Remember?"

I did, but that was not important. "If I just think of Black as a regular student…" I began.

Lucille and Camilla started laughing. "Good luck with that!" they cried.

Tamara held out a serving dish to me. "Eggs?"

After breakfast, I said goodbye to my friends and decided to change my Course Of Action. First I would inform Professor McGonagall of her delinquent student's reticence to be around me, and then—if Minnie did not care or seem to want to change anything about it—I would go to My Head of House, Professor Flitwick, and complain.

See that that little goblin-man didn't do something to solve _this_ problem!

I hitched up my bag and walked to The Head Table where most of the Professors, McGonagall among them, were still munching along. "Yes?" Professor McGonagall asked me, noting my presence. "What can I do for you, Miss Ransom?"

"Are you aware that Mr. Black does not want to be tutored?" I said.

Professor McGonagall took a moment to set down her eating utensils. Then she Really Looked At Me. "I was aware. But I confess that I had hoped you could change his mind about it. I am sad to see this is not so."

"I can't change his mind," I said. "He really doesn't want a tutor."

"It's unfortunate then that it is not up to Mr. Black whether he wants to fail History of Magic or not."

Still I tried. "Mr. Black told me that he wanted to drop the class," I confided.

"Oh, he will not do that!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed. Most students were leaving The Hall, so she rose from her seat, quickly searching, presumably for Black's distinctive animal magnetism (some of you might not get it, so again I feel I have to point out my sarcasm). "Mr. Black! Mr. Black!" she called. "Can you come up here for a minute?"

Sirius Black saluted her—though he did not move from his place on The Gryffindor Bench one inch. "Yes, Minnie!"

For a moment, Professor McGonagall's lips pressed together in a firm line. _"Mr. Black!" _she said. _"Up this instant!"_

Oh Merlin did I want to be here to witness Black getting yelled at!

A second later, Black joined us at The Head Table, and I re-thought my opinion. He looked especially angry at me for ruining his breakfast. Angry enough to duel me, even, and I am not sure I wanted that.

Though I guess it's not that hard of a stretch to note that Black wants to duel with someone! I hear Black tries to duel Someone every day—Severus Snape from Slytherin being of course his preferred victim of choice.

Just to be Annoying, I decided to wave at Snape.

Snape, in turn, tripped over his feet when he saw that a girl was waving to him, but I had succeeded in getting Black to frown harder at me, so Snape's momentary embarrassment was worth it.

"He's a _Slytherin!"_ Black hissed like that was tantamount to The Worst Insult Ever. "He's a Death Eater!"

"Mr. Black!" Professor McGonagall remonstrated. "That is enough! You are up here to discuss with me about why, it seems, you feel you do not need a tutor! Not to gossip about other students!"

"Sorry, Minnie, my heart, it won't happen again!"

Professor McGonagall nodded before she could stop herself I think. "See that it doesn't." She paused, thinking over her next words. "…When I talked with you the other day about your grades, Mr. Black, and said that you needed to apply yourself more, I did not mean that you should feel free to apply yourself to dropping any classes."

Sirius pouted at her. "They are my classes to drop," he said. "I don't see why I can't drop them."

"Be that as it may, Mr. Black, I don't want you to drop History of Magic. It is a simple thing of not studying the material that has you so hung up—."

"Actually, Professor McGonagall," Black interrupted in what was an obvious show of characteristic mule-headedness for him. "Binns's class is just too boring for me. It's too boring for _anyone_ to get a good grade in." Black glanced at me. "Except maybe Raisin over here. Why _do_ you like the class, Raisin? Is it because you think ghosts are romantic?"

"No," I said, confused as to how Sirius Black could get up and dress himself in the morning if this was an example of how stupid he was. "It's because _history_ is romantic." _You dumbarse,_ I added silently.

"I agree, Miss Ransom," Professor McGonagall said. "Which is why, Mr. Black, Flitwick and I chose her to tutor you."

"I am going to drop the class."

"No, you will not!" McGonagall ordered. "History of Magic is an important class and you will not drop it!"

"I don't need it to become an Auror!" Black replied. "I already have five other NEWT classes."

"You will not drop it, Mr. Black!" Professor McGonagall reiterated. "If I have to talk to The Headmaster to make sure you don't, I will!"

"Well, fine Minnie," Black said obnoxiously. "You can go do that. Class is starting in five minutes though, so I think Raisin and I need to leave. As much fun as having this conversation was…"

"Two points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Mr. Black!" McGonagall said, though she looked a bit frantic that she might be late to her first class. The professor pushed back her chair and stood up. "Miss Ransom," she nodded at me, "I would like to finish this conversation later. I will send you a note sometime within the hour telling you when."

"Of course, Professor McGonagall. Have a pleasant day."

"You too, Miss Ransom." McGonagall gave Black One Last Quelling Look then went on her way out The Hall.

Wanting to be able to say I left Black standing there to other people, I started walking away, too.

"_Hey!"_ Black called. "Wait up a moment!"

"No, no," I said, looking over my shoulder at him. "You were right! Class does start in five minutes." I swept my wand in a Tempus Spell. "Actually, four minutes."

"Minnie sure doesn't know how to take a joke, does she?" said Black, catching me up.

"_What?"_

"I mean, it is my class to drop," he told me. "I should be able to drop it."

Not wanting to believe that Regular Human Rights' Rules applied to Black when he so often flouted them for other people, I shook my head. "No," I said. "You shouldn't. Now I have History of Magic with the romantic ghost now so…you realize you are walking the wrong way, don't you, Black?" I said, absolutely gob-smacked that Black was still walking next to me. "I don't know what class you have, but I know it's not with the 6th years."

"I can miss a couple minutes," he said. "It doesn't matter."

"Well, it matters to me," I replied. "Don't get in trouble on my account."

"But I wouldn't!" Black said. "That's the thing! Everyone saw us talking with McGonagall, so they'll just assume that's where we are now!'

"Well, I still have to get to class."

"Oh, I see," Black nodded, "You don't want to skive off then? Join me for a little stroll?"

"That would be a 'no'," I said.

"No?"

I nodded, Inescapably Thankful that I saw my classroom in the very near distance. I was the only one of My Fellow Ravenclaw Girls who took it, so no one was waiting outside for me. No one to see that Black and I were talking. "That would be a 'hell no'."

Black looked like he Had All Sorts Of Things To Say To Me, but contented himself with only telling me "Goodbye."

I waved him off. "Goodbye."

Merlin!

Now you see why I needed a nap!


	6. Chapter 6

_Ravenclaw Common Room._

Late at night and I am actually not supposed to be down here at this hour, but I can't sleep. I cannot stay one more minute in my dorm room. It is way too suffocating in there. I forgot, over the summer how weird it is sometimes living with four other girls.

Hopefully, next year I will make Head Girl and will not have to worry about sharing a room with anyone.

Hmm.

Thought!

Speaking of Sharing Rooms With People, I wouldn't mind if Heathcote Barbary were to be held back another year so he could make Head Boy and share a Common Room with me. Some people might think that if you are stupid enough to get held back in the first place, then maybe you don't deserve to get rewarded with something like being Head of the Prefects, but in Heathcote Barbary's case, I disagree. That boy's face is way too nice to not have with us another term around.

Heathcote has a girlfriend right now (they always seem to, alas) but Pretty Suzy Carmichael is a 7th year like him, so by July, if Heathcote doesn't want Suzy to expect a ring on her finger and lots of babies, he should be getting out of that relationship. By July I also expect to have at least kissed a boy for the first time, so I think Experience-Wise I will be up to date and ready for Some Action.

Ready for Some Action?

Merlin, I am lame.

I came down here to clear my head by writing, and all I seem to be doing is making my thoughts more jumbled. Oh well.

It is my fault anyway that I let my own need for revenge against Black dick me around today.

Several times, Black had given me an out to tutoring him, and what did I do? I declined. I declined, because as much as I do not want to be around Black, I think I will enjoy knowing I am annoying him much more.

Petty, but whoever said I couldn't be?

With boys, you sometimes have to sink down to their level if you want to win.

It is Thursday tomorrow, and that means I have Potions again; though this time it's only an hour-long class. I am looking forward to seeing Sluggy, because he sent me a note (in the same vein as McGonagall perhaps), saying that he Has Something of Import to tell me about. I am hoping it is an Invite to His Slug Club and not some homework proposition of some sort.

I am glad no one is down here with me. I always feel uncomfortable writing in front of people, because I know that they are staring at me thinking, "What is she writing? Is it about me? Is she writing that she wants to snog me? Well, I don't want to snog her!"

I know that if I did not have this journal spelled private-o, my inner thoughts would be pasted all over Hogwarts as soon as Mara could get her fat grabby hands on them. Not that I'm sure people would care all that much about what some Mousy Ravenclaw 6th year Girl has to say, but the possibility of Notoriety is enough to make me very careful whenever I write.

McGonagall almost confiscated this yesterday when she saw me walking in the hall with my head buried deep in it. I think she thinks I am Deranged and Possibly Scarred By The Horror Going On In The World and writing constantly is the only thing I have that is preventing me from jumping off The Astronomy Tower like A Crazy.

I think McGonagall may be right.

I have a tutoring session with Black tomorrow, or so said the note from McGonagall (news on Slug Club Front coming soon!). Right after Dinner, The Black Hole is supposed to meet me in Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration Classroom. Evidently, Professor McGonagall will be overseeing the first couple sessions until Black gets comfortable and accepts the fact that yes, he really does have to do well in History of Magic, his Head of House told him so!

Because of this, I am back to feeling smug.

Black cannot possibly act up that badly with a professor in the room. And so I am confident that for a while at least, I will actually make some head-way on his thick head.

Perhaps I can get Evans to convince Potter that Black should behave anyway, regardless of a Minder Being There? Perhaps I also want to get hexed by Charms Expert Evans for even daring to suggest such a Nasty Thing as her Pleading To Potter.

I am finally starting to yawn again, so I think I am going to put this away.

Until tomorrow, My Beloveds!

_The Great Hall, Afternoon._

"How was Arithmancy?" I asked Camilla, setting my pack under The Table at my feet. Lucille took a seat next to Tamara, and the two of them commenced a hushed conversation complete with intermittent giggling and several "really?"'s on Tamara's part. "Could you pass the rice, please?"

Camilla nodded, still chewing on a biscuit. Her Thursday morning class apparently got out ten minutes before Lucille's and mine which I would consider unfair if it weren't for the fact that (from what I hear) Arithmancy is a very hard subject. Something to do with adding the numbered-values of letters to get one single number…my head ached, thinking about it. "It was okay," she said. "Professor Cecil gave us a chart to do, but we don't have to finish it until next week, so I should be okay."

"Well, tell me if you need any help," I offered. At Camilla's confused look, I added, "I know a person who's very good at it."

Cam started to smile. "Featherhead?"

"So!" I said. "Lucille!"

"What?" Lucy asked, still with her back turned to me. "I am in the middle of something!"

"What are you and Tamara talking about?"

"None of your business!" said Lucille.

Tamara looked over at me. "Hi, Evie! We were just talking ab-mmph!"

"Lucille!" Camilla and I said together. "Take your hand away from her mouth right now!"

Lucy shrugged. "Sorry, but I can't. Tamara," Lucille addressed her, "I really am sorry, but I want this to remain private for now, okay? I'll tell everyone later, I promise you."

Tamara nodded, eyes wide.

"You're so rude, Lucille," I said. "Such a bad friend, isn't she Tamara? Why, Camilla! Look at how she's manhandling her! Tamara's such a delicate girl. She surely doesn't need this abuse!"

"I know, Evie," Camilla agreed, and then shook her head. "It's outrageous, the stuff these Muggles teach their children these days! Vulgar!"

I nodded. "Absolutely horrible!"

Lucille and Tamara glowered at the both of us.

_The Grounds, Half Hour Before Dinner._

On the Remus Lupin Front, I am still unsure of what is going on. Lucille has been getting giddier by the day, so I assume…

I assume Something Must Be Happening, but what, I have no idea.

According to Tamara—whom, I am sorry to say, Lucille, cannot be trusted with a secret!—Lucille is off on a walk with Lupin right now. I know this for a fact, because I am following a discreet ten feet behind the pair. It is very cold out, so I do not know what kind of first date Lupin thinks this is, but he is Not Scoring Any Points with me at all.

I am here to make sure No Funny Business ends up going down. The two know I am behind them of course. Lucille is periodically throwing Dirty Looks over her shoulder, and Lupin looks delightfully embarrassed, but I will not budge. The fact that Lupin won't talk to Lucille in a Public Forum is I guess what is bugging me. I do not buy the excuse that he is "Just too shy for that sort of thing," as Camilla puts it. Remus Lupin obviously has enough Audacity to single Lucille out for his Perverted Attentions, so I think he should man-up and be proud of his feelings.

The fact that I liked Remus Lupin before this year started is a moot point.

I had a Crush on Sirius Black before he opened his big fat gob.

Feelings change.

_Transfiguration Classroom._

"Welcome, and sit down, Miss Ransom," Professor McGonagall greeted me, as I came in through the door, indicating a desk in the front of The Classroom. I smiled at her wrinkled face and took the chair on the right. The room was conspicuously absent of Sirius Black, but I knew he was coming, because all throughout Dinner he, along with Lucille (but that's no matter), had been sending me Looks. "We will start as soon as Mr. Black gets here."

"Alright, Professor," I said. "How are you?"

"I am doing fine, Miss Ransom, thank you for asking. Yourself?"

"Oh, I am doing fine," I said. "Fine. Can't wait for this to start."

"Hmm," Professor McGonagall said. "Is that so?"

"Yes, Professor. I have been very excited."

"Well, I suppose that must be a good thing."

"Yes."

"If you want," suggested McGonagall, "you can get your notes out and choose the ones from which you think Mr. Black will benefit the most tonight. I believe The International Warlock Convention of 1289 is relevant? He has an exam next week on the subject."

"I've already done that, ma'am," I assured her, extracting from my school bag a thick stack of parchments I had re-copied just for Black last night. In it, key points were underlined; sometimes twice.

"Merlin, Miss Ransom!" said McGonagall. "You did come prepared, didn't you!"

I shrugged, suddenly modest. "Thank you, Professor."

"Not at all," Professor McGonagall told me. "Oh good! Here comes, Mr. Black." I busied myself with reshuffling papers. "Hello, Mr. Black. Take a seat by Miss Ransom, please."

"Alright."

"Hello," I mumbled, feeling I had to be civil even though it galled me. I know I chose the current scenario through a combination of a desire to be a better-rounded Ministry Applicant and a desire to annoy Black but he doesn't have to make it so hard.

"Raisin."

I rolled my eyes. Black was such A Baby. "Professor? How long is tonight's session?" I asked.

"Two hours, Miss Ransom. I think that should be a good start for tonight. I also understand you have Prefect Duties, so I won't keep you later than what those will allow."

"Thank you, Professor."

Professor McGonagall nodded, and waved her wand. An hourglass appeared on her desk and she turned it over. "You two may start now." She began marking papers, ostensibly not paying neither Black nor I any mind.

"Okay, Black," I said. "I've copied down some of my notes for you. I want you to study them when we're not together."

"Fine," said Black, sounding Grumpy.

I paused. "…Are you alright with this? I mean I know…" I lowered my voice, lest McGonagall hear what I was about to say next. "I know Professor McGonagall is making you, but I'm not sure I feel comfortable teaching a person who doesn't want to learn."

Black shrugged. "Your fault, Raisin."

"I guess it is." I took a very deep, fortifying breath. Okay! To Business! "Now, first off, I would like to see the notes you've been taking down…or…" I glanced into Black's face. _"Or,_ if there are no notes, then I would like you to very briefly go over what you remember of the class you had this week. When was it again? Monday?" Black nodded. "Alright. Monday. It's Thursday night now, so that means tomorrow is Friday…stop me if I'm wrong."

"Can we just get on with it?" said Black testily. "Why don't you just tell me what to study and I'll study it and then we don't even have to talk, how's that?"

I shook my head. "The problem with that is that I can't be sure if you're absorbing the information you're reading."

"There are spells for that," Sirius responded, like I was the Stupid Person.

"Any that _you_ know of?"

"Well, I know of them, obviously, otherwise I wouldn't have said anything!" Black snapped at me.

This, apparently, got McGonagall's attention. "Mr. Black!" she said. "Keep it down, please! I am grading your homework right now, and trust me when I say you want me to be as calm as possible!"

"Sorry, McGoogly-Pooh. I'm trying. But Raisin over here—."

"It's Ransom, Mr. Black. Please show her the proper courtesy." She paused. "Please show us _both _the proper courtesy."

"Right. Ransom. Well, she keeps on going on about how I need to review these notes she's given me, but she won't even give me the chance to do it! I'm not trying to be rude, but honestly! It's enough to drive even you mad, Professor McGonagall!"

Oh Christ. To borrow an epithet from Lucille.

I think it fits very nicely here, don't you?

_Ravenclaw 6th year Girls' Dorm Room_

Oh Fucking Christ.

Just about the Longest Two Hours Of My Life.

I've just gotten back. McGonagall extracted a promise out of Black that he walk me back to my Common Room after our session, and Black actually complied, leading me by the elbow like some misguided Arthurian Lancelot du Lac.

I have to go back outside in about five minutes to patrol The Hallways Of My Favorite Second Floor and so am (anxiously!) waiting right now for Mara to get her fat arse down here so we can leave. The downside of not being on friendly terms with the other 6th year girl Prefect of my House is that I periodically have to work with her.

If there is Dissension, like there of course is, then the time does not go by as fast.

Not that Mara and I _ever _walk The Hallways together—you can bet we split right the fuck up once we are out—but the time we do spend in each other's company is Rife with both Silence and Yells.

I think she is disappointed that she is not the one tutoring Sirius Black.

Haha!

I feel so smug.

For the most part, I don't like that I am tutoring Black—read: this evening's debacle—but if one upside to it is that I get to Annoy Mara, then that is Very Alright With Me.

"Okay," announced Mara; her fat form jiggling as she stomped down the stairs in stiletto boots. "I am here!"

"Lovely! Shall we go?"

"Yes, because the sooner we go the sooner I am back and away from you again!"

"Well, Mara," I said, following her outside, and closing the door behind us. "That would be true if it weren't for the fact that we sleep in the same bedroom. Alas!"

"Hmph!"

"Right. So, making our conversation as short as possible: I have decided I am taking the 7th Floor Hallway. You can have 2nd Floor."

"I don't want 2nd Floor," said Mara obstinately. "I want 7th."

"Well, I just called it, so you can't have it, sorry."

"I'm taking 7th Floor!" Mara told me. She emphasized this by moving to get in my face.

"Well, fine," I said, turning around and walking away, secretly cheering. "I didn't want your manky 7th Floor anyway."

"My 7th Floor is not manky!"

"It is if you've been stepping on it!" I called back. Walking fast—practically running now. The Stones Of The Castle Shook as Mara also ran to catch me up.

"Why are you such a twat?" she demanded from behind, huffing a bit.

"I have no idea! Why are you such a shitehead? These will forever remain Mysteries Of The Universe."


	7. Chapter 7

_2__nd__ Floor Corridor Near The Bathrooms._

Ambling along.

Lucille thinks I am mad, but I enjoy walking around Hogwarts when it's quiet like this. No one to bother me and I am left with about an hour of free-thinking time.

Of course there is the chance that I could be Ambushed By Marauding Slytherins out for a midnight stroll every time I turn a corner, but what Lucille forgets is that I am a Big Girl (bigger and taller than her!), and I can take care of myself. I know lots of spells. Lots and lots of spells. And I know it is weird, I know it does sound mad, but sometimes I feel Invincible just because I am walking out on my own in the middle of a spooky castle. It feels like I am Courting Danger. And I know other people may think liking that fact is something to be ashamed of, but I do not.

I have tried to control it and tamp it down, however, it seems my anger from an hour ago, inspired by Black and Mara Dice is winning out.

I dislike being angry.

I feel the warm blood running through my veins like mercury right now; quickly, quickly poisoning me and making me retarded, and this is not good. I do Stupid Things when I'm retarded and let emotion get away from me.

This is why I try to be—what the Muggles call it—"Very Zen About Everything."

Admittedly this past week, I haven't been Very Zen About Anything. But Anger certainly has its advantages when you are looking to feel Protected. Even if it is just from snogging couples, I like to know each time I Patrol that I can smack the shit silly out of someone with my wand if I feel so inclined. If I have learned anything as a Prefect, it is that you have got to be Tough. You have got to show Resilience and Spunk and Leadership if you do not want to be stomped all over by the people you are trying to discipline.

I remember going to Wizard Primary School (most Purebloods have tutors, I obviously did not) in South Wales when I was little. We had Prefects there too. I was one of them.

I remember taking Great Joy in Bossing The Other Girls Around and making sure that when we all left in a line to take a Loo Break, the girls I did not like had to keep their eyes focused straight ahead without blinking. I was a Firm Task-Master then and all the teachers loved me for it.

All the professors love me now so nothing has really Changed In That Department.

(Edit: Except for the fact that They Expect Even More Good Things Out Of Me)

Turning the same corner I have turned multiple times. For some reason, I keep on coming back to this section of The Hallway. I hear shuffling sounds nearby and they are making me Very Curious.

To my right, there is a Stone Gargoyle Staring At Me Creepily and I cannot seem to stop staring back. Rumor has it that this gargoyle is actually a standing representative for Headmaster Dumbledore's Office. Impatiens Bellicose, The Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, also has her Office on this floor. Tomorrow is my second NEWT class with DADA—we are going to be studying The Patronus Charm, which is Lovely.

Impatiens graduated from Hogwarts two years ago and is a Ravenclaw Alum.

She was fond of me in an Indifferent sort of way back then and I like her a bit, because in my First Year, she guided me to all of my classes. So far, Defense is enjoyable, but that may or may not change. The previous year we had a Dud Of A Professor if there ever was one; he disappeared three months ago supposedly on some errand for The Ministry and has not been heard from him since. I am not sure if I am happy about that.

"Oh! _Oooh!"_

"Mmfrgle."

Merlin, it is not my Imagination! I _am_ Hearing Things and they are Not Just Going On In My Head, but Outside It as well.

I pushed open the door to a storage room, wondering why it was not spelled to repel me or at least locked. I can only assume that the couple in front of me had gotten lost in "Their Passion." A girl with familiar blonde hair broke away from the dark-haired boy she was with and turned around.

I gasped.

"What?" I said. "What, what? Camilla Marie Jones, what is this?!" I shook my finger at her, surprised and appalled. "You are in big trouble, missy!"

My best friend, caught _In Flagrante Delicto._

And what is more, with Alexander Riktus!

I am so ashamed.

_Ravenclaw 6__th__ year Girls' Dorm Room_

Gave Camilla a stern talking-to. She is pretending sleep right now, not wanting to Discuss with me anymore what I found her doing.

What a bad, bad girl!

Badder (I am aware "badder" is not a word) than even I can hope to be.

I blame Alexander Riktus of course. Before he came along, Camilla was shy and demure and never flouted the curfew. Now she is a Scarlet Woman, taking any scraps of love she can get.

I now have two Very Specific People I would like to kill.

Remus Lupin Better Watch Out if he does not want to become The Third.

Pacing around the room.

Lucille says I am overreacting, and has since thrown a pillow at me. I think it is time I go to bed.

_The Great Hall._

"Well?" I said, having waited all morning to say just that. I had been the last one down to breakfast—the consequences of staying up late again—and was just squeezing onto The Bench now. I really only had about ten minutes to drink my tea and Stare The Truth Out Of Camilla before we all had to leave for class. Not as much time as I wanted for my endeavor, but I would make do.

Camilla looked at me guiltily. "I didn't mean to, Evie, I'm sorry."

"You didn't _mean_ to? So he made you?" If this was true, Lucille and I would be having a Talk about what spells to use on Riktus.

"No!" said Camilla. "Please don't think Alex forced me! That's the last thing he did! _I _kissed _him!"_

"You were doing a lot more than just kissing when I came upon you two last night," I said. "His hands were up your skirt. There was definite foreplay going on."

Lucille chose that moment to butt in. "Foreplay?" she repeated. "What a word! How eloquent and grown up you sound this morning, Evelyn!"

"Shut up," I replied, good-naturedly. I turned back to Camilla. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Are you back together with him, then?"

"Evelyn!" Camilla looked shocked that I would even question such a thing. "What, do you think I just go around letting every boy's hand into my pants? Because, I can tell you that Alex is the first boy I have _ever—!"_

"Do not tell me anything more," I pleaded, covering my eyes, and Inhaling Oxygen Carefully. "It is too much! I am going to be sick if I hear another word."

"You wanted to know," Camilla told me.

"I retract everything!" I said.

"Ooh!" said Lucille. "Even your anger?"

"Except for that," I amended. "I am still angry."

Camilla pouted her overly pouty lips. She looked gorgeous. No wonder Alex Riktus was attracted. "Please?" she said. "You're still my best friend, aren't you? I didn't mean to make you angry with me. It's just…it's Alex!"

I nodded. She was getting it, finally. "Precisely."

"He's just so wonderful to me sometimes…"

I groaned. "Cammy, honestly! You really think that boy is wonderful? He cheated on you with Mara Dice. Mara Dice. You remember Mara, right? She lives in our dorm room? She's as fat as Hogwarts? Surely her memory hasn't escaped you. How it could, what with her being so large, I don't know."

Lucille and Tamara started laughing. "Oh, Merlin!" Lucille said. "Give it a rest, will you?"

I smiled. "What?"

"You know exactly what," accused Lucille. "Look at Cammy, you're making her cry."

"Am I making you cry, Camilla?" I asked, Not Very Concerned If I Was. I thought about it a second later, closely inspecting Cammy's face and the way she was blinking her eyes, and decided I was a bit concerned after all. But only a bit!

"No," she mumbled, now concentrating on fiddling with her fork. "No."

I scooched closer to her. "Are you sure?" I said. "Because I really don't mean to make you upset. Probably like you didn't mean to make me angry," I added. "I'm just so concerned. I know how much That Idiot hurt you last year, and I don't want that to happen again. I'll kill him before he hurts you again, I promise you."

"But he won't!" said Camilla. "You don't have to kill him! I wouldn't have gotten back together with him if I thought he would stray again!"

"And to Mara Dice of all people!" I said, shaking my head. "But don't worry about her. She won't do anything for fear that Lucille will strangle her. Isn't that right, Lucille?"

Lucille nodded.

Ick. In my opinion, boys who weren't Discerning with whom they slept with were Obvious Man-Whores, but for Camilla, I would shut up. "I'll leave it be," I promised. _For now._

For now.

_Outside The Great Hall._

To my horror, Sirius Black met me out in the hallway on my way to Defense. I had previously since set MFG on their way without me, because I still had some tea to finish up; I was regretting that decision now. Except for other stragglers, Black and I were basically alone. He looked Very Determined About Something, and everyone knows that A Determined Sirius Black is never a good thing.

I spoke up before he could say anything. "The tutoring session is still on for tonight. I hope you've read the material I gave you."

"No, 'hello'?" asked Black, without answering my question. "You're very rude."

"Hello," I said. "Did you read that material?"

"I did not." Black grinned at me like this was Something Funny. "To be honest with you…" he glanced at me wondering if he should continue.

"Yes?" I encouraged.

"To be honest with you," Black said, "I think my dog ate it! When I woke up this morning, the pages were all chewed up! Oh, what a loss!"

"I didn't know you had a dog," I said in confusion. Then I realized that dogs Weren't Even Allowed At Hogwarts, so Black had to be lying to me. "I don't believe you!"

"Such faith in your student!" replied Black. "It makes me tear up."

"Dogs aren't allowed at Hogwarts!" I said. "Only cats, rats, or toads. Nowhere on The List does it say you can bring a dog, Black."

"You can if you have special permission!" Black said. He laughed, because apparently this was funny as well.

"I don't _believe_ you," I said again. "Show me the notes."

"The notes I chewed up?" Black asked, then said quickly, _"I mean—."_

I interrupted him. _"You_ chewed up the notes?" I gave him an odd look. "How is that right? You just said your dog did the chewing. Get your story straight, Black."

Black, now looking composed, said, "I didn't mean that _I_ chewed them up. How could _I_ have chewed them up? No, I am telling you, my dog did it!"

"You're confusing me. Why are you talking to me again? There's no need." I stopped walking to do a Tempus Spell. I had two minutes. I could make it to class in two minutes. Speaking of Classes and Shooing People Away: "Don't you have a class to go to?" I wondered.

Black scoffed, flapping his hand like a Poofter. "Oh that! McGonagall will understand. She's making me learn from _you_ anyway. I am allowed to be late if I'm talking to you."

I stared at him, and then started walking again. Black of course followed. "I don't think she will understand, Black. McGonagall doesn't strike me as a very understanding person. Maybe you should start walking to class. And, where are your friends, by the way?" I honestly wondered why Potter and Lupin and Pettigrew were not right next to Black at this moment, bugging the knickers off of me as well.

Maybe they had a Falling-Out? One can hope.

"They're okay. They're probably in class right now."

"Maybe you should be too?" I suggested.

Black shook his Big Head. "Apparently you don't know McGoogly-Pooh very well if you think she'll care that I'm late," Black said.

I paused. "Uh, _apparently,_ _you_ don't know McGonagall very well, if you think that she won't care that you're late." I Absolutely Refused to refer to McGonagall as "McGoogly-Pooh." "McGonagall always cares."

"But I do know her!" said Black.

"Very well?" I asked.

_"Very_ well." Black winked at me, then immediately realized how stupid he looked, and frowned.

"Get to class!" I said. "I'll see you tonight."

"Do you not even care about the notes?" Black asked me, bewildered. "It looked like they took you a long time…"

Did he think I wasn't a witch? "They did take me a long time," I lied. In truth, I had actually used a spell to copy them down, but no way would I tell Black that! This was my secret.

Sirius Black and I were at The Defense Classroom now, so I entered through the open doorway. Black followed me all the way to my desk situated in the middle of the room between Lucille and Camilla. As I plopped my stuff down in the guise of Why Are You All Staring At Me Like That, You Obnoxious Bints?, Lucille and Camilla—along with the rest of the class—started snickering. I tried to ignore thirty people staring at me, but it was hard. Most likely they all knew I was just his tutor but the room was also filled with sixteen-year-olds who love a good torrid romance.

Turning to finish my Conversation with Black, I gave what can be classified as a Very Dirty Look. "I still don't believe anyone would let you keep a dog in this school," I said. "However, to be fair, I expect to see evidence of your failure to protect the notes tonight."

"You want proof?" Black said. "But why? They'll be all slobbery!"

"I just said why," I informed him.

"But they're all chewed up! I'll show the bits to you!"

"That's what I was asking you to do," I said in My Obvious Voice. "Now, I will see you tonight."

"You want me to _leave?" _Black asked obnoxiously. "You don't want me to stay? Because, I'll stay if you want me to. Just say the word, Raisin."

"Merlin, Black!" Lucille said, Finally Having Had Enough. The entire class, me along with, stared at Lucille in surprise. Lucille was short with me, sure, but never people she normally didn't talk to. "Evelyn asked you to leave! So leave!"

"What was that?" asked Black, his trademark sneer beginning to form on his face. He turned to Lucille. "You're that girl Moony's seeing, aren't you? Dawzy Something?"

Lucille blushed. "It's Sawyers," she corrected.

"Sawyers. Right." Black nodded. "I'll have to tell him you were being rude to me."

I recovered myself. _"Black!"_

"What?"

"We have a class!" I reminded.

"Tell me that you want me to leave," Black urged me.

"But I want you to _stay!"_ I gasped, sounding a little bit Too Sarcastic for even me. _"Where_ in Merlin's _name_ did you get the idea that I wanted you to _leave?"_

"From you!" said Black, nonplussed.

At that moment nothing could have been more Climactic (or have Ended Our Spat Sooner) than the Professor walking in; which was what happened. "Mr. Black?" Professor Bellicose greeted with an obvious question in her voice. "Aren't you supposed to be in class?"

"You're a bit young to be working here," Black observed rudely, All His Attention now directed at her. "How old are you? You look really familiar."

"My age is irrelevant, Mr. Black," the professor said. "Now please go to class. What do you have? I will even write you a note to get you there faster." Professor Bellicose picked up a quill from her desk and began doing just that. "Whom should I make it out to? Professor McGonagall? Slughorn?"

Lucille and I both groaned, knowing that A Note would only make Black want to Wander Around The Castle All The More. Black would follow us around all day in this case!

I prayed to Merlin that she knew how to word a message like this to McGonagall so Black would not get any freedom whatsoever, unless he wanted to get a detention. Which I guess just disturbs me more—Accumulating Detentions is like a contest to him.

Black spread his lips in a Rather Large Grin. "McGonagall, and thank you! This is most appreciated!"

"This is more for me than it is for you," said the professor.

"Raisin!" Black's voice forced me to look at him again. He blew me a kiss. "See you tonight, lovey."

"Okay," I said, with a mournful sigh. Once Black had Vacated The Premises, I felt an apology to our professor was in order. "I'm sorry, Professor Bellicose." I shrugged like What Could I Do, I'm Just A Pawn? "I am tutoring him, and Black's taken that to mean that he can Invade My Life now. I wish he wouldn't, but he is."

"It's alright, Miss Ransom. I am well aware of how trying all this can be." Professor Bellicose smiled. "I've Been There Before."

I hesitantly returned the grin. "Oh."

I had no idea then how much Trouble my words against Black would cause me in the coming weeks. But oh, the Trouble they would cause! I was not ready for it.


	8. Chapter 8

_The Grounds._

Rejoice, for The Weekend is finally here! I have had a Very Busy Week and it feels Fantastic to me to just be able to rest for a bit.

"Are you ready?"

But of course I cannot rest. I have to walk to The Quidditch Pitch right now to practice with M.F.R.G. for the upcoming season. Merlin, is it cold.

You did not think that we took the yearly Resolution List very Seriously?

Well, I am here to tell you that we do.

#1: Camilla is already back with her (cough, splutter!)…Boyfriend Of Old, Alexander Riktus, and after two days they still appear to be Going Stronger Than Ever, pashing in every corridor—looking absolutely, absolutely ridiculous: like two badgers (and we know about badgers: once they latch on to something, they never let go).

I so dearly wanted this time around to be different. I actually wanted this time around to Never Happen. But it is not meant to be. Camilla Jones is just not the type of person to be once burned, twice cautious. Camilla would rather skip-de-loo around Rationality, and land straight on the Absurdity Circle.

#2: In the spare time we have had for such things—which is not much—Lucille and I have been working on her Astronomy Grade. It is yet very early in the year, so if we keep at it, Lucy should achieve her goal.

So far, we have re-copied all of her notes, going over each star and sun chart minutely, searching for mistakes. It turns out that Lucille was unaware as to whom precisely Hipparchus was. As a Firm Lover of Antiquity, this seems unbelievable to me.

It is also unbelievable how Lucille could have gotten an Exceeds Expectations on her Astronomy OWL in the first place. But perhaps Aurora Sinistra took pity on her and owled the Ministry; since anything less than an EE in Astronomy—where you look at fecking white dots on a blue backboard—is tantamount to a Year Three Literacy. And you might as well drop out of school if that is the case, because there is obviously nothing anyone anywhere ever will be able to teach you.

Another example of How Far Behind Lucille Is:

Early Thursday Morning, directly after Lucille got back from Astronomy class with Tamara in tow, I fished out a Mini-Quiz I had been working on for the both of them. Lucille could not tell me any of the moons around Jupiter.

For their OWL's, 5th years are required to know and chart Jupiter's moons.

Lucille is now a 6th year.

You see the Ignorance I have to deal with.

No matter. We will just have to work harder.

#3: I do not think Tamara needs any help with Getting A Boyfriend, and so I am not helping her, but Lucille happens to be working on it. Thanks to Lucille's supposed swain, Remus Lupin, Tamara is meeting and getting acquainted with all sorts of other boys Lupin's age.

Tamara is a sweet girl, but I do not think she is Ready For A Relationship with Anyone.

Especially a seventeen-year-old boy.

What Tamara wants is someone who will Sweep Her Off Her Feet, and Carry Her Away Into The Sunset On A Broom/White Steed, Where They Will Then Commence With The True Love Making And Happiness Ever After. I do not think such a person exists in the realms of adolescent boys, but perhaps I am wrong. I also do not think the concepts of "True Love" or "Happiness Ever After" exist but I am not so cold-hearted as to ruin Tamara's dream by telling her this. She will find out soon enough.

Also: We have been over this before, but I feel I need to reiterate: as thick as Tamara can be sometimes, seventeen-year-old boys are much, much thicker. Someone needs to be smart in the relationship if it is going to have a chance of working out, so I can already tell Things Are Doomed, because all the smart boys are already taken.

#4: I am Number Four and Not Number One, because we all already know my desire is to get That Chaser Spot On The Quidditch Team.

I would not call myself a superb flyer, but I am pretty decent. I have been sneaking out to fly since I was old enough to attend Hogwarts, and I am getting better each time I practice (imagine!). In two weeks, when try-outs finally begin, I should be prepared for whatever Heathcote decides to throw at me.

(Edit: I also will not allow myself to Lose, so really, there is nothing to worry about.)

"Are you _ready?"_ Lucille asked again, looking pointedly at My Journal.

I nodded.

"Then get on your broom, you lazy thing!" Lucille swung up herself and vaulted into the air. I am not sure on why Lucy feels she has to fly with me every day when I am clearly the better athlete, but such is the Bossy Way of Lucille Sawyers. Since it was the weekend, we of course were not the only ones On The Pitch, but thankfully—I would not know how to cope if Black were Spying On Me—no one seemed to be paying us any mind.

"Yes, mum."

"This is your wish, to fly, is it not?" asked Lucille, turning her broom so she could glare at me. "Because all I have heard for the past three months is you going on about Quidditch, Quidditch, Quidditch! Stop me if this isn't your wish and you want to get down, because I am here to help you!"

"It's my wish."

"Well, then act like it!" said Lucille.

"Do you not see me holding a broom?" I said. "Am I not now kicking up into the air?" I lifted off on my borrowed school broom. Before try-outs begin, I will have to make a sneak-trip into Hogsmead to purchase one of my own. "Am I not now in the air? Lucille, I am practicing!"

"Well, good!"

"Yes! Yes, it is." I was no longer reticent about the Cold Air, because I had affected a warming charm around me. I was now very much exhilarated and loving every second of it. "We left the set on the ground, didn't we?"

Lucille swooped over to Tamara and Camilla, sitting in The Stands and doing homework. "Ladies!" Lucille called. "Please unleash the Quaffles!"

_Outside The Great Hall._

Back from a Rigorous Workout on The Pitch. After a while, I had started to overheat due to my warming charm so I _finite_-ed it. As a result, I am Cold-Sweating Buckets. What is more, is the feeling has been increased ten-fold ever since we stepped foot inside the heated school. I desperately need a shower, but I am also starving. This is a New Development as my stomach never seems to be empty enough to growl.

Perhaps I am losing weight at last?

I have been filling up on hot tea more in the past few days than I have on chocolate and cream-cheese pastries, this is true. I have just had too much on my mind to think about what Sweets My Body Has Been Craving. Apparently, my body stopped craving the sweets and started craving caffeine. Maybe my Stomach Will Continue Eating Itself and by next week, I will actually have a waist. Something to hope for, though I doubt I have that much self-control.

The Great Hall is just to our right so I believe we are going to eat first.

"Ooh, food!" We all sat down and Camilla, Lucille, and I watched in amusement as Tamara loaded up with just about one of everything on The Table.

Another Background on Tamara:

Tamara loves food and eats about nine times a day. Due to the Heart Medication she takes, Tamara is required by her Muggle Doctor to consume upwards of 4,000 calories every day. This is hard to do when her stomach is about the size of a sickle-piece. Unfortunately, at her current weight of about eight stone, Tamara's metabolism is Evidently Still Getting The Best Of Her and causing her to shrink like someone not eating at all. Tamara is of average height, but due to her bone density, she looks like a skeleton. People have begun to notice and comment, and it is currently causing Tamara Much Grief—one reason I do not feel so envious!

Certainly, it is not like the poor girl can help it!

(Edit: I should note that Lucille and Camilla are only aware that It Is Vital for Tamara to Eat Vast Quantities; I think they are currently under the assumption that she is Hypoglycemic, which of course is also true)

I have dreams of being able to eat Every Fuck-All Thing I Want and Not Gain A Pound, but if the price is a bad heart and poor health then I guess I would rather be slightly chubby as I am now.

On the sly, I am searching the Restricted Section—via permission from Flitwick, of course—for a Cure.

It is almost purely academic however, so please no thinking I am a Closet Softie, because I am not. (Grin!) Looking over, Lucille looks like she would prefer to shower before she faces the chance of having Remus Lupin come in and see her all sweaty and disgusting. But she is too stubborn to say anything about it and race upstairs. Good girl, I say. Good girl.

However, it looks like Our Solitude will still be Broken by Black, because he is making his way over to The Ravenclaw Table as I write this sentence. It would behoove me to put My Journal away, but like all Addicts, I have a Compulsion—I just cannot seem to stop.

"Raisin."

Why Black feels he has to bother me on my Off-Day when I am sitting with my friends, I do not know. Today is supposed to be Sirius-Black Free. If he expects a conversation then he has come to the wrong place. Over the top of my book, I noticed Lucille grinning cat-like at Camilla. Why the two of them think something sordid is going on is beyond me.

I do not understand anything anymore.

"_Raiiiisin!"_

"What?" I said, setting aside My Beloved Journal, and whispering a protective charm over it to keep it undisturbed. "Have you somehow forgotten that we're not supposed to see each other today, Black? Because there is still time to remember."

"I had a question to ask you," said Black. "About the notes."

I blinked in surprise. Yesterday, I had magically re-copied another packet for Black—this one complete with notes from The History of Magic class I had just had. The fact that he had even looked at them after his destruction of the previous copy was suspicious. "You actually read them?"

"Well…"

I sighed. "Black. Either sit down or leave, but stop standing there looking like an ape who's lost his banana."

Black actually laughed. "Fine!" He sat down in the now Curiously Empty Space next to me. I glanced at my friends, wondering why they were not helping me out at all—especially Lucille, who seemed to have developed a personal enmity against Black for getting her last name wrong yesterday. For a moment, I was truly gob-smacked that I had invited Black to even sit down at all. For a moment, I was truly gob-smacked that Black had accepted my invitation and sat down.

Having decided that Black's Agenda Was Obvious—he wanted to harass me of course!—I relaxed as much as I could. "What's the trouble?" I said. "Do you have the notes with you?"

"Yea, hold on, let me get them out."

"I am glad you're taking some initiative, Black."

"Here they are."

I took the sheaf of parchments out of Black's hands, flipping through them. "They all seem to be here." I was surprised. "Have you really read them?"

Black, deciding that the breakfast on our table looked better in his mouth than out on the serving dishes, started fixing himself a plate. "I even used that spell you taught me. The one to increase my ability to retain memory."

"Good."

"I am confused on dates, though," Black continued. "Could you make up a chart for me?"

I stared at Black; really, truly, honestly curious as to where all this enthusiasm was coming from. "Sure," I said. "I would be delighted to make up a chart for you. I'll have it for you by Monday."

Black smiled, biting into the Incredibly Large Sausage Sandwich he had just fixed up. A bit of juice dribbled down his chin. "Fantastic!"

_Ravenclaw 6__th__ year Girls' Dorm Room._

"What is going on with you and Black?" Lucille said, moving to Tower Over Me by standing next to my bed curtains. I was sitting in bed, propped up by my pillows, contemplating transfiguring my bear into a cold compress. In the end I decided not to, because I felt too lazy to wave my wand.

Camilla and Tamara chose that particular moment to join Lucille. A second later, all three were ensconced up around me, squished like sausage-links, legs folded Indian-Style.

"Uh…"

"You know what I'm getting at. Don't pretend ignorance!"

"I am not pretending!"

"Oh, right!" Lucille said, unconvinced. "Next thing you'll tell me is that you're suddenly in love with Mara Dice!"

"Well, I have to admit that that won't ever happen." Tamara giggled and I let myself smile a bit. "But I still am just as clueless as you. Yesterday, Black hated the fact that I was tutoring him!"

"Maybe he still does," suggested Camilla. "Maybe he's just taking McGonagall's advice now and not showing it?"

I scoffed. "Black can't ever hide his feelings. He's too stupid."

"Evelyn!"

"What?" I said. "It's true. Aren't I right, Lucille?"

"She is right," Lucille said. "Black is dumber than many an inanimate object."

"How did he get so many OWL's then?" asked Camilla.

"He has an…Aptitude," I said finally, for lack of a more appropriate word, though that seemed to fit just fine in this situation. "Unfortunately, it's pretty high, from what I hear. Lucille and I call him dumb, because he's throwing it away and not applying himself."

"So says the girl who never applies herself," answered Camilla.

"I don't need to apply myself," I replied. "I'm Top Of Our Class."

"That's hypocritical of course!" Lucille said, voicing her opinion loudly, as she was wont to do. "If Black needs to apply himself, then so do you."

"I apply myself more than Black does!"

"Barely!"

"Hey now! Who's tutoring whom now, hmm? Black is the one who's in Trouble With His Grades, not me."

"This is true," said Camilla. "Alright, Evie, Lucille and I will stop interrogating you. We're just curious as to what Black thinks he's up to."

All three girls stared at me in the Hope That I Would Enlighten Them. I wished I could have. I really wished it.

"I don't know," I said. "I don't know." I looked to Lucille, remembering Lupin. "Why don't you ask your boyfriend what Black is about? They spend all their time together. Maybe I'm about to be a part of Some Prank."

"Don't say that!" said Camilla. "You'll jinx yourself!"

"Are we sure that it matters? I don't exactly have that far to sink in the social order, frankly."

"Oh, stop whinging!" cried Lucille. Tamara, like a puppet, nodded in agreement. "I'll talk to Remus about Black. Though why he'll confide in me, after only two dates, I don't know."

"So you are seeing him!" I said.

Lucille glowered. "Obviously."

"Shall we play a game of Snap, then?" Camilla asked, rising up from my bed and diffusing the tension.

Tamara clapped her hands together. "Yes, let's!"

Even though I Had Several Bad Feelings about What Black Was Up To, I still could not erase the Curiosity and, alright…uh, _Joy_…I felt in someone actually supposedly benefiting from my Instruction. Regardless that that person happened to be Black. And Regardless that that person happened to be Snotty. Come Monday, I would have That Chart ready for him.


	9. Chapter 9

_The Great Hall._

Three days into the second week at school. Everyone is all atwitter with Horror and Anxiety due to the fact that You Know Who and His Silly Minions have struck again: this time at a Muggle Playground near the River Thames in Gloucestershire.

I have not really talked about You Know Who before. Not specifically and not by name at least. I don't want to make a point of talking about him a lot, but Suffice To Say that he is Trouble. It makes me madder than Hades to think about what That Bastard did to those five little Muggle kids. And just because he could; which in this case, is a Rotten Reason to do anything. Strung them up by their wrists, he did, and enacted a general Frost Charm around the area to make it colder so they froze to death during the night. Their bodies were found the next morning, as blue as rather large icicles hanging from an eave.

Merlin!

I am basically Peaceful. Basically Calm. But when an act like this occurs, I want to Knock Some Heads Together and Make All Sorts Of Noise.

Why does this have to happen?

Why?

I don't think it Needs to happen.

I believe The Wizarding World got on just fine before any Dark Lords or Ladies came along. True, we have always had a history of them. Let no one say that I am unaware of who Grindewald or Morgana Le Fey is; but Evil is just sometimes not worth it.

We At Hogwarts generally try to all lead the best lives we can by not thinking about heavy stuff too much. We are children. We are allowed to have a childhood. The War is always hanging over our heads making us nervous, so it is impossible to ignore; but of course that doesn't stop us from trying. We would all like to forget. We would all like to go back to a time Before The Fear Came About. But we can't. And so we cope the best we can. I am only sixteen. My parents still pay all my bills. As a pampered youth, I'm ill-equipped to deal with being an adult.

"Are you going to finish your sausage?"

Off course, The Mundane creeps in (like it always will). I have to be Thankful that Mundane Things still exist and are Allowed To Creep Into my life. Without them, I think we would all be quite, quite lost. Which is why I am handing over my sausages to Lucille right now, and which is why I am smiling ruefully. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Camilla's wink. Camilla and I are of the opinion that Lucille could use some fattening up anyway.

"Yes, here you are. Take them. Take them."

"Thank you, dear!"

I stared at Lucille oddly, wondering where this endearment had come from. "Are you feeling alright?" I said. "You usually call me a daft cow. Lupin hasn't done anything disgusting to you, has he? I've heard from Black that his nickname is 'Moony.' That sounds more than a bit insidious. Why do you think he has it? Has he done anything nasty to your arse recently that we should be made aware of?"

"Nothing that you should be made aware of, no," said Lucille, between bites of her Fabulous New Sausage.

On second thought: "Fabulous New Sausage" does not look so good on paper, now that I have re-read at it; Ah, no matter. It's easily erased.

Thirty seconds of Contemplation later. "Pardon?" I asked, noticing that everyone—everyone being M.F.R.G.—was staring at me. "Sorry, but I had to check on something."

"Why do you write in that all the time?" Tamara asked with interest.

Lucille answered for me. "Don't bother," she said negligently. "It's of no use. The book's part of her. She's had one in front of her every day of her life."

"That's not entirely accurate," I responded. "I didn't know how to write when I was two years old."

"But you did when you were three?" Lucille sneered.

I nodded, like Didn't It Have To Be Obvious That Was The Case? "Of course! My parents had me reading the paper when I was still being taught how to go in the toilet. Sometimes I would practice both simultaneously."

"Read? You were able to _read_ when you were being toilet-trained? I don't believe it."

"Well, believe it!" I said. "Because it is true."

"It can't be," said Lucille. "It's impossible!"

"How do _you_ know?"

Lucille leaned forward over The Table. "I know, becau—."

Camilla felt that it was time to intervene. Why she wasn't used to Lucille's and my bickering by now, after five years, I do not know. "Ladies! Ladies!" Lucille and I reluctantly turned away from our Staring Contest. "No yelling over breakfast, please!"

"Does that mean we get to yell over Supper?" I asked curiously.

"We'll see."

_Outside The Great Hall._

Just like Last Friday—just like the previous two days actually—, Black met me on my way to class directly after Breakfast. This time it was a Wednesday. I had History of Magic again, and—like always—was running late, because I Woke Up Late and Am Not A Morning Person.

Black had taken to "escorting" me to most of my classes. Sans Potter, Lupin The Pervert, and Pettigrew, Black was free to annoy me without a buffer. Why Black is doing this, I have yet to figure out, but trust that in time I will.

For the most part, I think of Black as a Nuisance. Child needs to be squashed.

I would be more than happy to squash him, if it were not for the fact that, in my mind, I still retain the Possibility that Black's recent change in behavior may be genuine.

Who Knows?

(Edit: I certainly do not!)

Perhaps all Black needed to reform was a constant nagging presence to show him how regular people carried on. Of course, in my Heart Of Hearts, I do not believe this anymore than you do, but oh how I want to (oh, how I want to).

It sounds absurd, but from what Professor McGonagall has been telling me throughout the past week, Black has improved in his studies. Professor Binns administered a test on Monday, covering all the notes Black and I recently finished going over and Black received an Acceptable.

Now generally, if it were I who had received such a grade, I would probably have thrown a tantrum and thought of hanging myself (What's more, proving McGonagall right! I am Unbalanced!), but since Black was the recipient, Monday was a happy day.

Due to Black's Progress, McGonagall, in her Infinite Wisdom, has decided that it is alright now to leave the supervision of Black's tutoring solely to me. As a result, Black and I have so far had One McGonagall-Free Tutoring Session; this was yesterday. In a bid to ingratiate himself further in my esteem—you all know what I say to that!—, Black has been…

How to Describe.

Alright, here: Not A Model Pupil exactly—anything so much as that would set off Red Flags right away—but certainly Calmer and More Sincere in his desire to learn than he has been in the past.

All these recent events combined have caused me to at turns run Hot and Cold.

I want to be At Ease. I want to.

But for the most part, I am finding it is too damn difficult. Years' worth of bullying and sneering indifference on Black's part, and on the parts of others, has taught me to be Extremely Vigilant in the giving out of my trust. I won't do it for just anyone. And I certainly do not want to do it for Sirius Black.

"Raisin. Happy to see you! How are you doing?"

"I am fine, Black. What can I do for you this morning? Are you yet aware that as it's Wednesday, we have Officially been attending classes for a week and a half?"

Black nodded.

"Therefore," I said. "I doubt I need your guidance to get to class on time this morning. On the contrary I am aware of the routes I need to take, and am fully confident I will be able to find my way on time without a minder."

"Evelyn, Evelyn, Evelyn." This certainly put me on my guard straight away since Black almost never referred to me by my given name. Black sighed, probably sensing this. "Can I not just want your sweet company? Soak up the limelight of your intelligence? Does it always have to be that I Want Something?"

"Yes," I said. "You have your own limelight. It's big, and you don't need mine. Also, I doubt it has anything to do with a desire for intelligence. You place people around you in the order that they are dumbest."

"Raisin! You wound me deeply! And my friends! They are very worthy and smart individuals! Couldn't ask for better, actually."

"I suppose I should rephrase," I said. "I wasn't talking about your friends."

"Who were you talking about?" wondered Black.

"The girls you hang out with. But, if I have to tell you that…" I shook my head. "Sad. Sad, sad, sad!"

"All this time I thought you wanted what was best for your pupil, and here you are making fun of me!" Black said. "Not done, Raisin!"

"I do want what's best for you," I felt compelled by some Inner Truthful Force to say. At Black's grin, I added, _"Intellectually."_

"Awww."

"Listen, Black, Professor Binns's classroom is just around that corner. Contrary to Popular Belief, he _does_ notice when a student is absent or late from his class—."

"Not always. At least with me he doesn't. But I bet with you, Raisin, it _is_ different! Binns probably pants for you to come in the room every time he knows he has you in his grasp for class."

"He's a ghost, Black. He can't grab onto anything. He's incorpor—."

"Incorporeal!" exclaimed Black with Great Enthusiasm, interrupting me. "See, before you, Raisin, I didn't know what that word meant! Now you've got me looking through Remus's Muggle Dix-Canary. I'm learning all kinds of words!"

"It's Diction-Ary," I corrected—though my lips were in danger of twitching into a smile. That was the jeopardy of being around Black right there. "You've heard of the word, 'diction,' yes?"

Black nodded. "Of course."

"Well, did you just think it was funnier to mess it up?"

"No," Black replied, now sounding a tad grumpy that I wouldn't play along and Become Adoring (I think he should get used to it).

"Well, okay," I said. Silence, and then: "Here we are!" I declared, stopping in front of The History of Magic Classroom. I thanked Merlin that the door was closed and therefore no one inside could see Black and I standing staring at one another. "Or, here I am," I revised. "You need to go."

Black surprised The Stink Out Of Me by bending down to give me a quick hug. I felt the blood rush to my face in a firestorm. "Say 'hi' to Binnsy for me, okay?"

Black released me and Literally Skipped Away.

I blinked through my haze. "What just happened?"

"See you at Lunch!" he called cheerfully.

"What? What? Oh, Merlin."

_The Great Hall._

Back again for Lunch. I have Ancient Runes right after I can bring myself to move away from The Food. All of it smells so nice, so I don't if I'll be able to.

The Thing—I cannot think of it as an actual hug, more like a pat—from Black is still wearing on me. I don't know what to make of it so my appetite has decided to take care of the problem for me and growl like a Feral Bobcat In The Presence Of Cod. I am more hungry than I can ever remember being in my life.

One thing about a Tea-Diet that is Not Good is that after the initial Warm Belly Feeling you get when you feel that hot tea sliding down your esophagus and into your stomach, everything afterward feels a little more hollow and sore. It is a shame to start eating now, when I was doing so well, but everything looks too delicious to pass up. Or it would if I was alone in my dorm room, sitting on my bed with my curtains tugged closed for extra privacy, with this feast of food laid out before me. Without the comfort of a Private Binge, however, I am left with just staring at everything longingly, imagining the sunburst of flavor that first lovely bite would cause on my tongue.

My Will To Not Eat is strong enough right now to actually subdue my hunger pangs.

Imagine! Wouldn't mum be proud? I am only allowing myself tea!

Intellectually, I know you cannot survive off of Just Tea.

It is so goddamned hard to apply this reasoning however when you finally like how your body is starting to look.

Key Points:

#1: I actually have a waist!

My boobs are getting smaller, sure, and that may be a bad thing come later, but for now, I like that I am starting to look more like a Girl and less like a Lumpy Roll Of Clay. I am not as Rotund as Mara Dice for instance (and Thank Merlin never will be) but stand me next to a twig like Camilla Jones, and I look like I swallowed earth in comparison.

It has only been two weeks, but Progress shows. I am developing what one would call an hour-glass figure, and It Is Fantastic.

I still have a ways to go but it would be nice to be able to not have clothes tent out on me like a triangle. Part of that is my mother's fault for blessing me with large breasts and shoulders, but the other blame rests with me; in the past I seemed to like food too much to stop eating it.

That is the crux of The Issue now: I do not want to stop eating. Food, like books, is lovely, lovely, lovely, and like books as well, food lets me survive. Only, probably more so, because of nutrients and things.

But Vanity is Edging Its Way into this Competition, and I think I am curious enough to continue on my track and see how Things Play Out.

#2: My General Demeanor Is More Energetic.

At times Happier. At times wanting to Kill Other People Slowly, the caffeine in my green tea is making me more alive and awake than I have felt in a long time. Alive and awake are Good Things when it is taken into consideration that I have to attend and participate in my classes.

Another major point in favor for the tea-dieting revolution is that Black is starting to look at me different. Nothing is official yet; Black hasn't said anything up front—and I don't think he will, because it may just be that I make him constipated—but ever since last Friday, every time I see him, Black's mouth pulls down at the corners, and his forehead furrows, and he stares at me.

I have decided that this staring thing hasn't gotten annoying and it never will, because Black only stares at girls he finds attractive. Ergo, I am thinking, _I_ must be attractive to Sirius Black.

_Ergo,_ I am on the make!

Success!

Now only to not let on that I know things between me and the male population of Hogwarts have changed.

I mean, I am sure they have.

#1: Black is looking at me right now with his mouth hanging open over his sandwich. I am sure he is thinking something naughty about our next unsupervised tutoring session. He must be. Nothing will come of it, of course, but He Must Be. His eyes are glazed and his stupid friend Potter is smacking him over the neck blatantly trying to steal his attention away. Things have got to have changed.

Obviously it was inevitable. Black Couldn't Stay Away.

#2: Truth: Every female in my family is a knock-out, and it was past due for me to start looking good as well. I think, for the moment, that is all I will say on that.

"Evie," Camilla whined, trying to bring my head up, "please stop writing!"

"I'm in the midst of a breakthrough," I declared poetically. "Stop talking."

"Only if you stop writing," Camilla ordered, in a rare burst of spine-showing. "Now."

I kept my eyes and mind focused on Sirius Black. Merlin, was he beautiful! "I will not. In fact, I am writing our conversation down right now. For posterity, you understand."

"No, I do not understand," responded Camilla. "And why are you staring at Sirius? Wait, _why _is he staring at _you?_ Are you together? Did something happen? Oh!" Camilla started to squeal, and I quelled the intense urge I had to look at her and see all the fuss.

"Stop it!" I said, though I was in fact pleased to learn that Black was staring back lucidly and not just because he was into space and I had coincidentally been in front of the area he was facing. "You are ruining everything…oh my, he's coming over, he is. Oh, yes he is!"

_"What?"_ barked Camilla.

I watched Black swagger out of his seat—pushing Potter back down while shaking a finger at him so he would stay in place, I gathered—and collect his school things nonchalantly. How I knew Black was coming over to The Ravenclaw Table can be summed up in the General Horror I had that Black was coming over to the Ravenclaw Table. I could feel it in my bones and feel it run through my toes.

I didn't know what Black thought he was doing, but I suppose we will all soon find out. "Black is coming over!" I repeated, because Camilla was a stupid girl this afternoon and needed things to be repeated. Luckily, Lucille and Tamara were not here, otherwise I think I would be In Danger Of Being Humiliated. "Bastard's found out he can't live without me. Either that or he just wants to annoy me further. Merlin knows I need it today."

"Well!" said Camilla. _"That's_ a new one!"

"It's been in the works for a while," I told her. "I wanted to keep it quiet, not put a label on it yet."

_"What?"_

_"Shh!'_ I reprimanded. "He's coming!"

And Black was. In fact, he was standing right in front of me.

"Raisin," he greeted, apparently trying to sounding super-suave and just ending up sounding like he was making his voice go deeper.

"Black." I moved my pack away from his feet so he wouldn't end up stepping on it and crushing My Extra Potions Vials. "You threatened you would come over during Lunch. I didn't believe you. Would you like to kiss?"

"What?" said Sirius.

"Sit," I said. I mean, what? Kiss? "Would you like to sit?" What was wrong with me?

"Sure." Black sat down. He still had his book bag slung over one shoulder. I took that to mean he didn't want to get comfortable with sitting down next to Camilla and me. He shifted to look at the both us. "How's it going?" Instead of waiting for me to answer like any normal person would, Black arrogantly plowed on, "I heard something. A couple minutes ago, actually."

Camilla and I both moved closer. "What?" we asked.

"Your friend…Dawzy?"

"Sawyers," we chorused.

"Right. Sawyers. Well, I heard that she and Remus…" Black trailed off, obviously expecting us to question him further.

"Go on," I said. Camilla nodded. "She and Remus?"

"That she and Remus…are going out!" he finished. "The lucky girl finally caught him!"

Camilla and I exchanged bewildered glances. Black had come over here to impart non-confidential and completely uninteresting information? He had lost the plot.

"Is your head alright?" I asked Black in some concern. "Did someone hit you?"

"No!" Black said. "Why would someone hit me?"

"Why wouldn't someone hit you is the better question. I don't know. Why would someone decide to hit Black, Cam?"

"Maybe he couldn't remember how to pronounce his best friend's girlfriend's name," suggested Camilla. "Something like a lack of common courtesy could really offend some people."

I nodded, turning back to Black. "Yes, maybe that's it."

"Oh, stop it!" said Black. "Names are hard!"

I sighed. "Don't I know it!"

Black stared at me oddly, but evidently decided that what he had come over to say to us was more important than figuring out my sarcasm. "Now, as a concerned friend," Black went on. I snorted. "I am here to make sure that Dawson gets the message that if she _ever_ plays Remus for the fool—."

Stung, Camilla spoke up, "It's _Sawyers,_ you idiot, idiot boy, and _why_ don't you go tell her yourself, then? If you're so concerned that Lucille get this message?"

"Because I know you're her best friends," answered Black, like it was Obvious. "And, sitting with Raisin here…" Black put his arm around my shoulder, and, due to a Breach In Bodily Security That Absolutely Came Out Of Nowhere, I am ashamed to say my heart rate sped up. "Of course gives me the excuse to sit with Raisin here!" Black smiled, and I finally found it in me to recoil. "When _will_ we drop the pretense, lovey? All those missed opportunities! All those locked empty classrooms save for the two of us…"

"Oh, my God!" I said, for the second time today. "Merlin's Big Toes. What is _wrong _with you?"

"What?" Black asked.

I set down my tea. How dare he come and mock me? How dare he come over and insult Lucille? "And what makes you think I would have taken advantage in the first place, Black? Was it my take-me eyes? Was it my breathless voice and uncontrollable blush?"

"Yes," responded Black.

"You have a bit of something on your chin," Camilla said, getting up quickly and dragging me along with her. "Sperm. You should take care of it."

I giggled.

This was the moment, I think, when Black started glaring me. "Late night cramming Potter, hmm, Black?" I asked. _"Oops!_ I meant cramming _with _him. Cramming _with_ him. Semantics, I will never understand them. Interesting…I had no idea you could blush like that, Black. It's sexy, you shouldn't hide it!"

"Sexy," agreed Camilla.

We both walked away, cackling horribly. "See you tonight!" I called.

Maybe I am asking for something, but I actually could not wait.


	10. Chapter 10

_Transfiguration Classroom._

"Let's get this done with then."

Black entered the classroom in a Wave Of Impatience, seating himself down heavily in the seat next to me, and generally looking like he would rather be Any Place Else Than Where He Now Was.

In this spirit of Being All Business I asked him, "Have you brought your test with you? I'd like to go over it. Make sure we're on the same page with what you're studying."

Black stared at me grumpily for a moment, then bent down to retrieve the papers out of the pack he carried in with him. "Here." He handed a couple sheaves over.

"Thank you," I said.

Black grunted. "S'okay."

"Aren't you happy with the grade you got?" I said curiously, skimming over Black's answers. "It's a really big improvement. From what I've heard, usually you don't even finish these exams."

"It's still only an Acceptable. From all that I've heard of _you,_ looks like you're not doing your job to the best of your abilities, miss. Shouldn't I have at least gotten an Exceeds?"

"That's up to you, Black. I can only do so much." At his cross look, I explained, "I want you to do better, don't get me wrong! But it's not like I can take your tests for you. In the end, how well you do is purely up to you."

"I don't like that."

"Well, you'll have to be getting used to it," I replied. "Because you're of age. And next year, you'll be wanting a job. Depending on how well you do on your NEWT's in June, you'll have all sorts of opportunities for advancement in whichever career you decide—."

"Now you're sounding like McGonagall!" said Black, sounding, if it were possible, even more like a stubborn child. "Could you give it a rest, please? I don't need another mum!" After that, Black immediately said something—most likely derogatory, as we know him too well!— under his breath.

I stared at Black calmly. "I wasn't trying to be your mum," I said. "I am just trying to do my job, and help you get better marks."

"What hold does McGoogle have over you?" Black asked. "It struck me as odd in the beginning, but now I know for sure: McGonagall would _never_ make you tutor me to get a recommendation and you don't need extra points in class! I asked Evans, turns out you're ahead by a large margin!"

"Because I receive extra points," I said.

"But that can't be all of it!" said Black. "You were ahead at the beginning of the year."

"It's September. It still is the beginning of the year."

"You know what I mean!" cried Black, setting his quill down roughly and leaning closer.

"Obviously, I don't."

"Is McGoogle blackmailing you? Is that it? That's it, isn't it?"

Beginning to get uncomfortable with his questioning, I said, "McGonagall is a professor, Black! Why would she blackmail me?"

Black crowed with what I think was delight. "She _is_ blackmailing you! I knew it! I see it in your eyes!"

I blushed. "No, she is not! Howyou could see that—."

"What is it? What does she have on you?"

"She has nothing on me! Absolutely nothing! We are talking nonsense. Now, tell me," I pointed to a particularly confusing paragraph Black had written. "Can you please tell me why you think it is possible witches were allowed to participate in the political process before the 1300's? Muggle Influence, aside, Black, that still doesn't explain away the fact that prior to 1269, _clearly,_ witches were not allowed to participate in The Council."

"What?" Black said, sounding dazed.

I repeated myself: "Can you please tell me—?"

"No. No, no, no." Black waved his hand. "I got all that! I just have no idea why you're trying to weasel your way out of answering a simple question, Raisin."

I paused. "…I believe the same can be said of you," I said. "Why can't you answer _my_ simple question? Is it because you simply, do not know the answer?"

"Is it because _you_ simply do not know the answer?"

"I know the answer. I am just not going to tell you, as it's none of your business."

Black crossed his arms. "Well, same!"

"Uh, not the same, Black. Not the same at all. I am your tutor. I need to know what's holding you back."

"And I'm your pupil. I need to know why you don't trust me enough to tell me who is forcing you to teach me. Smacks of conceit, it does!"

"Black," I said, Very, Very Steadily. I thought of how softly the water from a small waterfall in a glen at home trickled over a rock at the edge of our pond, and let that image soothe me. "Can we please get back to your essay?"

"I don't want to."

I nodded. "That doesn't surprise me. You are ever wanting to do things which other people cannot."

Greedily, Black latched onto my last words. "You _cannot?_ Why can't you?"

"Because, I can't, Black! Now let's get back to this essay—."

"Not before you tell me why!" Black demanded.

Have since changed my mind from earlier this afternoon.

I have discovered in the past ten minutes that I _Can _Wait for My Tutoring Session with Black. I can wait my entire life, if I have to. Black is at his most annoying right now. I do not think I have seen him more obstinate. And I do not think I have ever felt more worn out in my life just by one single boy. It feels like I am sitting my little brother.

"Well? Well, well, well?" Black said. "What do you have to say?"

I rolled my eyes. "I don't know. We're meant to be studying," I reminded him. "Where is all this stubborness coming from anyway?" I had not forgotten for a moment that Camilla and I had One-Upped Black During Lunch. "Yesterday, you were much better."

Black shrugged. "I felt like livening things up a bit tonight."

"What? No snog for that then?"

"Do you _want_ to snog? Raisin, I had no idea!"

"No!"

"Then why—?"

"I was just playing off of what you said earlier!" I replied, a little panick-y. Black was getting A Certain Glint In His Eye that Did Not Bode Well for me at all. "Of course I don't want a _snog!_ Especially from _you!"_

Black looked me over. "You look like you could use a good snog, Raisin."

"You understand why I wasn't asking you then. Good."

_Ravenclaw 6th year Girls' Dorm Room._

"Could you repeat the question?" I said.

I don't think any one of MFRG liked my request very much. As soon as I had come in from The Tutoring Session with Black (henceforth referred to as: The Tutoring Session From Hell), The Girls had swarmed me, demanding to know what had taken place. Even though I very much wanted a rant, I was almost too tired to fill them in on everything, and so, had taken to ignoring their plaintive wails for the last minute.

An example of My Tiredness: Right now, I feel like What Is The Point? To Everything. The Roughest Day So Far Of The School Year and Sirius Black had the Audacity to be an Even Bigger Shitehead than he was last year, and the year before last combined?

Completely Outrageous.

I don't know if I can take any more. I really don't.

Reminiscent of Black's Shitehead-ness this evening was the Shitehead-ness I got all of Second and Third Year from him. The very fact that Black expunged this behavior from his memory is a choice example of his evil-ness and the evil-ness all mankind is capable of.

"What did he say to you?" Camilla asked sympathetically. "Was he a git?"

"The biggest," I sighed. "The Biggest Git Ever."

"I don't think he was The _Biggest_ Git Ever," Lucille said in a correcting tone. "A git, for sure, from what I've seen of him. But The Biggest Git Ever? Perhaps you're over-exaggerating?"

"Have you even been listening to me all week?" I asked Lucille in amazement. "He's been buttering me up for a let-down! And just this once, when I decided to send a little confusion back his way he decides that he must up the stakes and torment me even more! He's horrible!"

Tamara threw her arms around me in an effort to comfort. "Oh, Evie!"

I patted her back. "There, there, Tamara. Not all is lost. Maybe I am over-exaggerating?"

"See!" Lucille said. "You just needed a little Distance."

"Ha!" I snorted, Called Back To Reality. "Ten thousand kilometers could not be enough distance between Black and I right now. I have a mind to wake up Headmaster Dumbledore so he can solve this!"

Lucille looked at me pityingly. "Do you really think he cares?" she asked.

"It's certainly worth a shot." I attempted to disengage myself from Tamara P. Poor girl was hanging off me like a Limpet. "…Tammy," I complained.

"No!" Camilla said loudly, causing everyone in the room to stare at her. I spared a glance to see if Camilla had disturbed Mara's sleep, but unluckily enough, she hadn't. Perhaps Mara Dice had Followed routine again, and affected a Silencing Charm around her bed curtains. Oh well. "You can't go see the Headmaster!" continued Camilla, ending our confusion. "He's probably asleep this very moment. It would be unforgivably rude!"

"Why is he our Headmaster if only for the reason that he's There For His Students? I'm going."

"No!" said Camilla again. "You really shouldn't!"

"Camilla, I'm a Prefect. He'll be happy to see me."

She shook her head. "That doesn't give you Impunity to walk around The Halls at all hours!" 

I lifted an eyebrow. "So says the girl who was found in a storage closet with her pants down not one week ago?" Camilla blushed.

Lucille stepped over to draw Tamara away from me. "After thinking on it," Lucille said. I groaned silently. "I think Camilla is right. It is way too late to disturb anybody about this. Give it til' tomorrow, Evie. If you still want to talk to The Headmaster then…"

"I don't want to!" I said, quite stubbornly, unconsciously imitating Sirius Black. "I want to go right now."

"Aren't you tired?" asked Lucille silkily. "Don't you want a rest?"

"Well, yes, but—."

"Then hold off on This Grand Expedition until tomorrow. Possibly never. I told you I would talk to Remus about Black's behavior. Who knows? Maybe Black's getting a tongue-lashing right now."

"I don't know," I said. "Your boyfriend looked awfully tired today as well." That Truth made me think of something even more horrible than disgusting Sirius Black. Turning to Camilla, I asked, "You don't think Lupin's given her anything do you? I didn't think he was the Promiscuous type, but maybe—."

"Stop right there!" Lucille commanded with a hand pushed flat into my face. "I won't hear another word!"

"Well, I wasn't talking to you!" I countered, trying to duck around. "You don't have to listen!"

"Girls!" Camilla said. She glanced at The Muggle Alarming Clock Tamara had given her for her birthday the year before last. "It's getting a bit too late for the fighting you two want to do tonight! I suggest to you, Evelyn, that you and I turn in, and I suggest to you, Lucy and Tamara, that you both start walking to The Astronomy Tower. It being ten past twelve, I think—."

"Oh, Jesus!" Lucille commenced running around The Room like A Loon, searching for her bag—which she of course left resting next to her bedside table. "Tammy, we're very, very late!"

"It's only ten minutes," I said, trying to calm everyone down—Tammy especially (who looked About To Cry). "That's not _very_ late. Your Professor will understand."

"Says you, who is always late now," replied Lucy.

"That's different," I said. "That's not my fault."

_Outside The Ravenclaw Common Room._

Early the next morning, Black met me outside my Common Room. Being late to Breakfast once again of course had more than a few downsides, one of them being that I was alone. "Is this becoming habit?" I asked. At Black's smile, I hesitantly started walking down The Hall, knowing he would follow. "I'm, uh, sorry about last night," I offered after a moment. "I just became frustrated."

"Why are _you_ apologizing?" Black said. "It was my clearly fault."

"Well, I thought I would give you an opening." Black laughed. "And, well, truth be known, I might have overreacted a bit. I didn't have to call you Useless. You're not Useless."

"So you remember that!" Black said. "I thought for a bit last night that you hadn't been listening."

"To you, maybe," I responded without thinking.

"Ho!"

"Sorry." I blushed. "I haven't had the best night's sleep." In the Future, I won't make Conversation until I've had at least two cups of tea.

(Edit: So Noted)

"Neither have I," said Black. "Shall we call a Truce then?"

I carefully looked him over. "You…want to call a Truce?" Whatever for? I certainly had gotten used to having Black as an Enemy. Surely a Proposal As Important As This had to be cleverly thought over.

"Yes," Black said. "I think that'd be the best way to get along."

"Truces often are," I said.

Black stopped walking. Due to Social Niceties, I was forced to stop as well. "Well, then? Shall we shake on it?" Black put words to action by holding out a slender—and manicured, which is quite poofy—hand. I stared.

"Well," I said, not knowing what else to say. I knew if I hesitated much longer, Black would become offended and possibly try to strangle me so quick action was in my best interests. "Well!"

Black grinned. "Go on! I'm not so bad, Raisin. I promise I'll be a better student for you."

Settling on the only explanation that was feasible, I said, "Did Lupin have a talk with you about your behavior last night?"

Black shrugged. "Maybe. But why can't this all be just on me? I am mature enough to realize when I have wronged a person. I can make amends."

"Are you mature?" I asked. "How extraordinary."

Black, apparently becoming impatient with my reluctance to touch Any Part Of His Body, reached across the Great Divide nd placed my hand against his. "Shake it!" he said easily. "It's alright."

My whole body went numb. "Is it?"

"Yes," said Black. "Do I have to do it for you?"

"You might."

"Well then."

Black tightened his hold on my hand, and then proceeded to Pull Me Into A Hug.

"Oh, dear!" I said. This again? "We hadn't settled on this!"

"Raisin!" Black admonished me. "Surprise is the Spice Of Life!"

"Variety. Variety is the Spice Of Life."

"That too!"


	11. Chapter 11

_Walking To The Stairwell On The Seventh Floor._

Friday is upon us.

This morning, before I went down to The Great Hall, I went up two flights, and cornered Professor Flitwick in front of his office on the seventh floor; with the Ostensible Purpose of asking him about whether possible if I could leave my Potions Homework with him until such a time that it was needed—but with the Secret Desire of finding out whether he would accompany me to Hogsmeade to purchase my broom before Quidditch try-outs.

Professor Flitwick happily allowed The First, and was very reticent about The Second. Until, however, I started talking about being preyed upon by the whims of others; then he shuffled guiltily and was all ears. He has given me permission to go to Hogsmeade with him today after classes let out. As a result, I doubt I will have to see Black this afternoon at all. I will be Too Busy, and also Away From The Grounds, so how can Black even find me to take the mickey?

Sighing (Sighing With Love, because I love Professor Flitwick!). Flitwick is a Very Good Man. He Receives An Outstanding.

Now, if I can just sneak down to The Great Hall without any mishap, I know for sure Black will not corner me at my seat.

That is not his style. Black's style is to sit with his friends and barely pay me any attention. True, over the past week, Sirius Black has been changing, gradually growing more obtuse and strange, but after our "truce" was shaken on yesterday, I do not see why Black cannot simply go back to being regular and dismissive with me. He is just That Kind Of Boy.

Here is my day up ahead: I have Defense at 0830, then Potions at 1000; this one due to Sluggy being sick the previous morning and unable to teach. At 1200 is my Lunch, and then at, or before, 1240, Lucille, Camilla, and I are going down to The Charms Corridor for a double class of Advanced Charms. After that, my day is Free.

Free to go to Hogsmeade. Free to purchase a broom. Free to continue defying my parents.

Glorious!

"Raisin! What are you doing up here at this hour?"

I jumped, frankly scared. "I was just visiting Professor Flitwick," I replied, turning around like a guilty mouse, and attempting what can be considered a smile. Black had literally appeared out of nowhere.

I willed my heart to come back down. In his hand, Black was fiddling with a giant piece of black fabric, trying to put it into his pocket and out of sight. "What is that you have in your hand?" I said. Whatever it was, it was clearly way too large to fit into as small a space as Black's pocket, so I didn't know how Black thought this avenue would yield any results; but I was intensely curious.

"What?"

I pointed. "That," I said. "You have something in your hand. What is it?"

"Oh, this?" Black fingered the liquid-y cloth, ostentatiously letting it droop all over himself. Apparently remembering he had an audience a second later, he went back to trying to put it away. "Nothing! No concern for you at any rate."

"Thank you."

Black must have decided it was a good idea then to hurry me along. Compelled by his quickness, I complied.

"All I mean," said Black, "is that it's a boring piece of fabric. See?" He held it up, still walking. "Nothing to get excited over, Raisin!"

"But what if I wanted to get excited over it?"

Black shrugged. "That's your prerogative, but trust me, it's nothing."

"What does it do?" I wondered.

"It sits in my hands."

"Black!" I whined, feeling Very Obnoxious even with the patient smile Black was forcing onto his face. Black's Face Never Wore Patient Well: he was the obnoxious one, not me. "What does it do?"

"I can't tell you," Black said. "It's not mine. Not my secret."

"But you know it!" I looked closer. Oh, Merlin. "That's an _Invisibility Cloak!_" I cried. "What are _you_ doing with an _Invisibility Cloak?! _Give it here! Do you know that these aren't allowed? You could get in big trouble, Black! Big trouble! Do you know what Big Trouble is?"

"What?" Black said, Wholly Confused.

"I said, give it here, you daft man! You shouldn't be lugging something this valuable around in broad daylight for all to see."

"We're on the seventh floor!" Black said, though he straightened his back, and glanced around with mounting paranoia. "I don't think anyone but you or me—."

"Isn't your Common Room right around the corner?" At Black's nod, I continued, "Well then, of course someone other than you or I is going to see you holding it out! This is Not Good Secret-Keeping Management, Black!" I reached my hand out, hoping to snatch it away, and possibly have some private time with it myself, we'll be honest. Black slapped my hand! "Ow! What? Black, I am trying to help you! Give it here! I'll put it in my bag."

Black backed away, cradling The Invisibility Cloak like it was his firstborn; looking ridiculous. "No," he told me. "You can't have it! It's mine!"

"I thought you said that you were keeping it for a friend!"

"Well, I am, and so, it's not yours!"

"I know that, Black." I was trying to be the patient one now and wheedle the cloak to me. "But I think it will be better off with me, don't you?"

"No, I do not! It's mine!"

I sighed. "Black, we've established it's not even yours."

Looking more paranoid by the second, Black backed away farther. It was not until then that I realized Pushiness had its good points. "You're not getting it! It's dangerous. It's not meant for you!"

"Blaa-ack!" I crooned, sidling closer. "Please, hand it over. You wouldn't want me telling a professor about this, would you?" Black shook his head rapidly. "I doubt it's on The List Of School-Allowed Items."

"It's not," Black responded, probably unthinkingly, as was habit. "So you can't tell anyone! You have to promise me, Raisin!"

"Why did you use it on me in the first place if you didn't want me telling anyone? You know what I think? I think you wanted me in on the Secret."

"I didn't!" Black denied. "I didn't! I thought we were friends."

"Blaa-ack," I said, again reaching out a hand and gesturing. "We are. Give it over."

"No!" With that, Black, looking absolutely Overcome by my stalking of him, ran from me down The Hallway; presumably back to Gryffindor Tower to put away the bit of fabric in evidence.

I smiled.

"Nice," I congratulated myself. Oh, what fun.

_Potions Classroom._

"Lucille!" I whispered in urgency, as soon as we both sat down together. Due to Black Watching Me Like A Hawk all throughout Breakfast and following me to Defense then to The Entrance To The Dungeons, I had not felt able to Really Talk To Anyone until now. "I have to tell you something!"

"You couldn't have told me during Breakfast or DADA or while walking here?"

"No!" I said. "I couldn't. But I'm telling you now, so listen!"

"We have class now, Evelyn," Lucille said, somewhat disapprovingly. She smiled at Marly Harold from Hufflepuff, then turned back to the Important Chore of getting out her cauldron and setting up her other potions supplies. "Can it not wait for after?"

"It can't. It's really important."

Lucille leaned closer. "Is it about Black?" she said, almost unintelligibly.

"Yes."

"_Well, what is it?"_

"Not here," I said, with a meek look, because Professor Slughorn had finally walked into the room—Talking About Anything Other Than Potions wasn't safe now, you see; my reticence had nothing to do with being an arse-kisser.

"But now you have me interested!" Lucille complained. I gestured at Sluggy. "Fine!" said Lucille. "You better tell me soon!"

"Oh, I will!"

"Miss Ransom, could you stand up, please?" Professor Slughorn asked, smiling happily, looking grandfatherly.

I swallowed nervously. "Yes, sir."

"Excellent! You're presenting first, after all!" Slughorn gestured me to the front of the room. "On Monday, I asked you to do a Further-Study Assignment on Bicorn Parts. Would you like to tell the class about your findings?"

Absolutely not. "Of course, sir! Would like nothing better!" Knowing I was the subject of many gazes, and not liking it one bit, because I never do, I had to Actively Work at not stare at anyone specific. Otherwise, I would Monumentally Cock Everything Up. "Is there a place you would like for me to start?"

"Did you…that is to say…no, I probably shouldn't hope…"

"Sir?"

"Did you, by chance, Miss Ransom, begin The Polyjuice with Mr. Snape?"

"I did," I said with some pride. "I'm sorry I didn't bring it with me, Professor. Professor Flitwick said he would leave it in his office until I could talk to you about it since it's so valuable. But I have notes! And if you have a Pensieve—."

"Quite alright! Quite alright!" Professor Slughorn interrupted me jovially. "Just bring it along when you have the chance. I'm very fond of Professor Flitwick, however, I would be more comfortable knowing I could keep an eye on it!"

"But I thought it was my joint project," I said in some confusion and apparent bratiness, while several students laughed.

"Oh, that's right! Well, this does put a dilemma on things, does it not?"

"Sir?"

"Oh, nevermind! Forget I said anything, please. I don't want to give the ghost away, do I?" He gestured at me. "The floor is yours."

"Oh. Well. Isn't that fantastic. Thank you, sir."

Merlin, did I Abhor Making Speeches.

_Somewhere Still On Hogwarts Grounds._

"Cold, dear?" Professor Flitwick asked, staring up, up, up, into my gray eyes.

"Yes, sir."

"Allow me, then!"

Flitwick swept his wand in a wide arc, and instantly I felt warmer. I would have affected a charm myself since it was so very cold out (I had actually, right before the Professor and I had exited the doors) but Flitwick's happened to be more powerful so of course I let him. Anyway, this is my Head Of House and I trudging through the Grounds, going for the gate of the property so Flitwick can Apparate us into Dervish and Banges. Why we can't just floo there is beyond me. I am wondering if Professor Flitwick is just all sorts of odd and desires a long walk.

Classes let out about ten minutes ago. I was wrong earlier in my Hypothesis that Black would leave me alone for the rest of the day. He has not.

Ha! He and his Big-Head Friend Potter and His Pervy Friend Lupin and His…His Other Friend Pettigrew followed my friends and I to Lunch, and then to The Ravenclaw Table at Lunch, and then to our Charms Classroom afterward. I cannot shake them. They are like Cancer; they metastasize everywhere. Any of them. All of them. They're all disgusting. Added on to The Looks Black has been giving me all week are now Warning Glares from Potter, and Nervous, Questioning Glances from Lupin. I am not sure I can cope with all of this negative attention.

I'm pretty certain Black told Potter about The Invisibility Cloak Dilemma. I am pretty certain that The Invisibility Cloak Dilemma can originate with Potter, because if it can't be Black who owns the Cloak, then it_ has_ to be Potter, and if this is true, then I am fucked. I'll have to watch my step. I have long believed Lily Evans Was In The Right about Hating Potter. He is way too arrogant to not have ties to the British Mafia. His parents probably call him Little Jimmy and affix family insignias to his person in tattoo-form before he leaves for school.

"Thank you, professor." I hid my unease and beamed down at the small goblin-like man, my thoughts brought back to present. "You are so very kind, sir! Did you know you're my favorite?"

Professor Flitwick giggled. "Am I, dear? How nice of you to say that! I thank you!"

I nodded. "You indeed are. Charms is just about my favorite class. I also really appreciate what you're doing for me, sir. With the potion and especially this. I really want a broom, and I know you don't have an obligation to get me one—."

"Well, you're welcome, Miss Ransom!" said the professor, cutting me off. "Tell me, how are things with young Mr. Black progressing? I heard that he received an Acceptable on his exam the other day. Congratulations, I say to you! I hope you're proud of your hard work!"

I shrugged. "Black can do better," I said, feeling Mean. At Professor Flitwick's surprised look, I re-phrased: "Not that Acceptable isn't good, sir! It is! Oh, it is! Especially considering what Black was working with before. To think on it, however, I don't understand how he achieved an Exceeds on his OWL in 5th year. He strikes me as the sort of person who would just as soon not take this class at all."

Flitwick hummed sympathetically. "Not making as much headway as you hoped, Miss Ransom?"

"Not quickly enough, no, sir. I mean, I know he doesn't like the class, but I thought that that just had to do with our professor! No offense meant to Your Kind, sir, but Professor Binns doesn't exactly go out of his way to make History interesting for other people. It's the number one reason a lot of students are doing so poorly in his classes."

"Hmm."

I continued, feeling impassioned, "I would have dropped his class long ago if I didn't like the subject material so much."

"Goblin Rebellions _are_ interesting!" Flitwick said.

"Yes, they are, sir. So, I would like to thank you, once again, for taking time out of your busy schedule to take me down here. You haven't even seen me fly yet, sir. You're taking a big chance. I could be a big wash-up, you know."

"Oh I doubt you'll be a wash-up, Miss Ransom!" said Flitwick. "After all, in the end, the decision is up to Mr. Barbary whether you make The Team or not. Though I think you will." I smiled, eager to hear more Compliments, because I knew I needed them today. "If the amount of effort you put in your studies is anything to go by, then I have every belief that you will be a very great asset to the team this year."

I didn't entirely understand the professor; before this year started, and I had to set a good example for Black, lest he get ideas, I put almost zero amount of effort into my studies. "What do you mean, sir?"

"Well, dear, I simply mean that you're a hard worker!" Discretely as possible, I snorted. Flitwick glanced at me for a moment, but continued. "Quidditch requires just the same amount—maybe more!—of dedication! If you have the inner drive to be Top Of Your Year, when around you are some very gifted students working to compete and surpass you, then I do not see why we won't be seeing Great Things from you in Quidditch this year as well!"

"Thank you! That's very nice of you, sir. But I doubt I'm that good."

"We will see, won' t we?"

I gave a faux-long suffering sigh. "You're putting all sorts of pressure on me, sir. I don't know if I'll be able to handle it."

_Dervish and Banges._

One of the problems with Doing Things On The Sly From Your Parents is that usually, unfortunately, they require Money that you simply do not have. This is one of these times.

To explain, perhaps I should get a bit wordy. I know you think I am rich. You would be wrong. I am not rich. My parents are rich. And perhaps my lucky older sister. But certainly not me. Like most Purebloods from Old Families, I have a Trust Fund, but Trust Funds do not mean anything if you are under the age of twenty-five; as I certainly am. Trust Funds are all well and good when you are buying school supplies like books and Potions ingredients during summer term. They are all well and good when what you want naturally falls under their stipulations. They are all well and good when your parents Don't Rightly Care what you buy. Big purchases such as brooms, on the other hand, will immediately raise a Red Flag.

I might, in fact, even Need Signed Permission (or have a parent with me) to complete such a transaction; which is why I have been trying to save my money so assiduously over the summer and haven't informed any adult who has a say over my finances. It has worked for the most part. New brooms are quite steep in their prices, so I am going to have to search diligently until I find a match well suited, but I think I can do it. I have about one hundred galleons on me; I hope I can do it. I will be Very Disappointed Indeed if I cannot.

Immediately, once we got inside Dervish and Banges, I started looking around. It was a small shop, not really a Good Host for brooms; but then it was the only one of its kind remotely involved in the selling of practical magical items; and on such short notice, and without the option of going to Diagon Alley, it was all I really had… Unless I wanted to Owl-Order a broom in, and I did not.

(Edit: Note to Readers: Owl-Ordering Anything In is Impossible to hide from parents, since the order Immediately charges the money to your vault—similar to a Muggle Crediting Card, I've been told—and guardians invariably end up receiving a note from their manager at Gringotts'. Great Shame, this Probably also causes Great Shame.)

"What broom model are we looking for?" asked Professor Flitwick, walking beside me, and glancing in interest at all the various things the store had in stock.

"I'm not sure, sir. I've read about the Nimbus Line. Apparently they deal in speed. If I'm going to be a Chaser, speed is an important thing to have, but I also would like good maneuverability. Switching directions quickly mid-turn, for instance, is a quality I would like to look into. The Cleansweeps don't cut it for that, in my opinion. Even though they're rumored to. I also," here I blushed somewhat, because it was embarrassing to admit, "can't spend a whole lot of money. But I do want a new broom, so used ones are out."

"I see," said Professor Flitwick. "Well, perhaps it would behoove us to ask this nice gentleman over here? Excuse me, sir?" A slender, rat-faced man with eyes at odds with his face—for they were very big—came over to us, and bowed.

"How may I help you, Professor? Hogwarts' business today, is it? You might be interested to learn that I just received a shipment in of firewor—."

Professor Flitwick stepped in. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Dervish, but unfortunately, Miss Ransom and I are on a Time Constraint and need to get back to Hogwarts as soon as possible. Miss Ransom just came to purchase a broom. I am merely here for decoration, if you will."

"A fine ornament," the shopkeeper replied.

Flitwick giggled. "How kind you are, sir! If you could help my student find a broom to her liking, we would be most obliged."

"Yes," I said, smiling hopefully, trying to look economical, yet important. "Please, show me what you have in stock, Mr. Dervish."

_Ravenclaw 6th year Girls' Dorm Room._

Just got back from Secret Errand With Flitwick. Am now carefully placing Secret Package discretely under bed. Flitwick did me an incredible favor by adding his own version to the Notice-Me-Not Charm: now I am sure my roommates will have trouble seeing even the bed I am sleeping on.

Success! All is well, and things are turning Right With The World. I've had a pretty shit couple days so far, so this little expenditure was Very Much Needed. Amazing what a bout of Forbidden Shopping will accomplish for the soul. I feel like I have just been on espionage for the Muggle MI5.

I purchased a Nimbus 1001. Not the Top Model, certainly, but definitely up there. Definitely better than that Crap Shooting Star Mr. Dervish kept on trying to press on me. I am not that poor, Mr. Dervish! My God.

Lucille's voice keeps on ringing up the stairs. Ringing In My Ears. She is ever loud. Someone needs to take her aside and tell her she sounds like a fishwife. I am late for Dinner apparently, and must join her. I don't want to go. I am not hungry at all. What I want to do is take this broom from under my bed and sneak outside and fly around The Pitch until all thoughts of Black and Potter and what they might do to me (when their forces are combined as they are so frequently) are knocked out of my head.

"Evelyn!"

"I am coming, you, nasty witch!"

Sigh.

"Oh, lovey!" I fingered my bedspread in lieu of reaching for my brown-paper-wrapped broom. "Mama must go for now!" My bedspread seemed to give me a Pleading Look. "I can't stay," I said. "I want to but I can't. Lucille may be shorter and slimmer but she has A Fire Inside that I lack. I am weak. I'm so sorry."

"_Evelyn Ransom,_ you come down right now! We are all waiting for you and you're being very rude!"

I sighed again. "I wish I could bring you. Alas, that I cannot!"

With one last anxious parting look, I left the room. Onward to my Annoyance…es. Annoyances. There are many of them after all.


	12. Chapter 12

_The Entrance Hall._

Down in front of The Great Hall for Dinner. I think it is a mark on how much I am getting used to Sirius Black being in my life, but I am surprised to find, not Black, but Lucille and Camilla and Tamara only standing outside The Doors waiting.

Up in our Tower, Lucille evidently felt that I was Taking Too Long (even though I was just in the process of leaving the dorm, I swear it), and gathered up Cam and Tamara and left without me. But Lucille is Impatient. I know this.

And so I greeted MFRG affably, still on my broom-purchasing high from a bit ago. "Hello! What have you ladies been up to while I was gone?"

Lucille waved a hand. "Not important."

Camilla coughed. "Um, Evelyn…"

We all looked to the blonde-haired girl. "Yes?" I asked. "Something to share?"

Camilla nodded. "Sirius Black left a note for you while you were gone." She started Smiling With Excitement. "We thought you should have it!"

I blinked. "As it's mine?"

"Right," said Camilla, nodding again. "As it's yours!"

"Well, where is it?" I looked at all the faces—Lucille started rummaging in the inside pocket of her robes. "Lucille?"

"I have it here," Lucille informed. "But you're going to have to read it aloud to us! Only fair. It's my One Condition. None of us got to escape Black and Potter today and all because they wanted to see _you!_ So you're going to have to read it alo—."

"Well, I am sorry," I interrupted, "but I've been gone off The Grounds all day. No need to be Grumpy. Haven't been able to be here to receive most of The Looks, so, miss, you can just calm it down. And shouldn't we be going inside? I was under the impression that we were already running late."

"No," said Lucille obstinately. "You're going to read the note to us first."

"Here? Where everyone's staring?" Due to our Predilection for standing in front of The Doors, people, people I do not like, were beginning to Bleed Out Curiosity, and Look At Us. I know I am a side-show sometimes, so people can't help staring, but do they have to? "Why don't we just take it up to our dorm and read it?"

"Because then we'll be late for Dinner," Lucille answered. "And, in case you've forgotten, Tamara needs to eat."

"Oh," I said, deflated, glancing at Tamara. "True. Well, you're still searching for it?" I demanded, noting that a sufficient amount of time had already passed for us to have had our grandchildren. "Are you sure it's in your robes? Are you sure you haven't gone senile?"

"It's here," Lucille promised. "It's here! I just have to find it!"

"Well, please, take your time. There's no rush, really."

One more minute passed, and still no note. "Well, Lucille," I began, "we should carry on to the dining hall. It's obvious even to the rankest idiot that the note has disappeared."

"Here it is!" Lucille squashed the note triumphantly against my nose. "Read it!"

"Ow!" I yelled. "Mad woman!"

"Sorry," she said, not looking very apologetic. I considered for a moment that none of my friends seemed to ever want to feel such an emotion towards me (shame!). "Read it for us!" Lucille directed.

I started backing up. "Who says I have to now?" I questioned. Note now in my hand, I felt brave. "It's not _your_ note, is it?"

"But we're your friends!" Lucille replied in some impatience. We deserve to know what Black has to say to you."

"No, you don't," I said, "if it's not any of your business!" Truth be told, I was surprised Lucille had held off on looking at my note until now. Hmm. Maybe she hadn't? Perhaps it was time to be vigilant.

"Evie," Camilla said calmly. "Stop walking away. Please."

"I can't," I told her sorrowfully. I gestured at my fist, folded note crumpled inside it. "This is obviously very important! None of you can read it but me. I need to go up to the dorm room for this."

"Evie," said Camilla again—this time, panic tinged her voice. Caught in my own slight panic that my friends might steal my private note away from me, I did not pay heed. "Please, stop walking!"

"I can't," I repeated. "No."

"_Ev—!" _

"Hush!" commanded Lucille, the very second my right heel hit the bottom of The Grand Staircase and I collapsed against it.

But not just against The Grand Staircase did I collapse!

Oh no! A warm body also cushioned my fall.

"_Merlin!"_

"I agree," I said dumbly, recognizing Sirius Black's voice. "Bloody Bollocks! Merlin's left foot!"

"Couldn't stand to not be on top of me, could you, Raisin?" said Black, maneuvering his front business against me. "Ooh, very nice!"

"Ugh!" I exclaimed, no longer paralyzed by my shock, and now moving desperately to get off the Gryffindor boy. "Sod off, you sicko!"

"With pleasure," Black said. "If you'd only stop squishing me. And I am obviously not the sicko here."

"Oh!"

"Offended you, did I?" Black said, with a smile in his voice. "Now that I have you here, I can ask you my question."

"Oh, that's not needed!" I assured quickly. "Not needed at all. I have already received your note, Black."

"Have you?"

"Yes, indeed." I looked for an escape. My friends (the Traitorous Bints) had already entered The Great Hall and left me by my Lonesome to cope with the Situation. No one in The Hall but us. Shite. "I was just about to read it, actually."

"Well, it is a nice note. Took me a while. So why don't you read it now?"

I turned and gave Black a confused look. "You want me to read it in front of you? Why? It's not…it's not going to do anything to me, is it?"

"Aside from give you Joy? I should hope not!"

"I see."

"Read it!" he encouraged. "It won't bite!"

"What _will _it do?" I wanted to know.

Black shrugged impishly.

"Oh my."

"Raisin, relax." Black laid a hand on my arm and squeezed, probably in some dim-witted attempt to comfort me. "It's harmless! Just an invite to The Kitchens tonight to go over my History homework. Nothing malicious, I assure you."

"Oh! Why can't we simply go to McGonagall's classroom? We've always met there."

"Because The Kitchens are cozier," said Black. "And you're right. We have always gone to McGoogle's classroom. But don't you want a change, Raisin? You've been to The Kitchens before haven't you? Five years here, I'm sure you must have. They have nice things in The Kitchens."

I nodded. "I know. Featherb—." At Black's Curious Look, I rephrased: "Feather_hea—."_

"You know Anthony Featherhead?" Black said. "I wasn't aware you two were acquainted."

"He's a fellow Prefect in my form," I answered. "Of course we're acquainted."

"Oh, I see," Black said with a grin. "He's a fellow _Prefect."_

"Yes." I didn't understand how Black could make "Prefect" sound dirty, but he could. "That's right. A fellow Prefect."

Black moved closer. "Why do you call him 'Featherbutt'?"

"We're both late for Dinner!" I said. "Why don't we go in?"

Black grinned at me. "Not before you read me my note, Raisin."

I frowned. "But you know what it says. You wrote it."

"Why don't we just say that I like hearing your voice?"

Becoming more confused by the second, I said, "But I am talking now, Black. Why—?"

"Why can't you just read it?" Black asked. "I took the time to write you a note. You should read it and be nice."

"But in front of you?" Black gave a nod. "It was my understanding that notes were private things."

"Well, they can be!" Black agreed. "But not in this instance."

"Well…"

Black Gestured Imperiously. "Read it!"

"Fine!" I said. The sooner I read it, the sooner Black would obviously go away. I was missing my dinner-time tea. "Here." I took a moment to unfold what was in my hand. "Uh?"

"Go on," said Black.

"It's blank," I said (somewhere there was a Question in my voice). "Did you spell it like this?"

"Tap your wand to it. It'll recognize only your signature and mine."

"Okay."

"Greetings, Raisin!" the note began, "Sirius Black at your service!" I snorted. "It just came to me yesterday that we've never been out on a proper date before." Here, I stopped reading to look at Black. "What are you talking about?" I said. "Of course we've never been out on a proper date before."

Black nodded. "And should we not rectify that?"

"What? No, Black! No, of course not. Why On Earth would we want to rectify that? We're not dating!"

Black made a very impatient and rude noise come from the back of his throat. "Continue reading, Raisin. It gets better, promise."

"You promise?" I questioned dubiously. _"You_ promise?" Then I sighed. "Well, alright."

"That's the spirit!"

Again, I smoothed out the note in my hands and looked at it. "I know you're probably confused as to what I am talking about," Black's note said, "but Rest Assured that all will come clear in the end! Bottom Line: I fancy you! You're the cat's meow."

"Uh…"

"_What?"_ Black said. "Didn't you know?"

The Great Hall.

No. I hadn't known. I had not known at all. I had had my suspicions, sure. But those were just suspicions, daydreams really, and Not Worth Any Merit when it came down to it at the end of the day. For the past three years, Black has been a boy so far out of my league in looks that he has been Unreachable. Now, simply because we have had a few conversations about History of Magic, I am allowed to touch him?

I don't think so.

Something Incredibly Fishy is going on.

And it is not just the smell of poached trout coming from The Table.

I did not run away from Black. I want that Made Clear Right Now. I gave a brisk walk in the opposite direction. Meals are almost like required classes, one has to attend them. And I was already late.

Very embarrassing, walking in late to Dinner with Black by my side, note forlornly stuffed in my hand, students looking on. Not that I hadn't tried to prevent such a thing from happening, but Black, as we know, is Stubborn and a Pill. He likes to accost women, and force us into doing nasty things. He is popular and obnoxious, and if he wants to embarrass you by putting his arm around you in front of the entire school, then by Merlin, he is going to put his arm around you in front of the entire school!

"What did he say to you?" Lucille asked, passing along the bread as soon as I had sat down. I received the tray from her and passed it onto to Camilla without taking anything. Camilla gave me a Look as well.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I said childishly.

"Actually," Lucille said, Impertinent, "actually, yes I would."

"Well, it'll have to wait for a bit, then," I told her. "I still need to figure it out."

Camilla stared at me confused. "You need to figure out what Black said to you? But don't you know?"

"I was there for the conversation, yes. But Black could have been speaking in Gobbledegook for all that it processed it was processed."

"That's bad!" said Lucille. "I thought we talked about this, Evelyn! You need to be Aware Of His Every Movement. You need to be Vigilant!"

"I have been Vigilant!" I cried. After Glancing Around The Hall, I realized perhaps Crying Out at The Ravenclaw Table during Dinner wasn't the Best Course Of Action to take. Across the hall, Black gave me a wink. "I have been!" I repeated; this time quieter, letting everyone go back to their meals. "I have been onto his every move, just like we said. But it's _hard_ to understand people when they are not making sense! It is _hard, _Lucille. I don't think I can do it!"

"Have you even tried?" Lucille asked.

"I've tried! I've just said I've tried! Of course I've tried. It's just not working! Black is a Being Unto His Own. He is nonsensical. It's sad, but there it is. No one can understand him!"

"Well!" said Lucille. "This gives us a dilemma."

"Yes," I said. "Another one."

"What was the first?"

I leaned in. "People are still looking, so I can't tell you, but trust me when I say, you want to know."

"Does this have to do with what you were prattling on about in Potions? Because I never did get a concrete answer."

"Yes, it does, Lucille. Yes, it does. It's Very Top-Secret. We may even get killed."

"Killed!" said Camilla. "You must be joking!"

"I don't know if I am or not," I told her in all seriousness. "It's very dangerous, Camilla. So, please, we can't talk about it here."

Lucille was giving me a shrewd look. "I see," she said finally. "I think I know what this is about."

"You do?"

Lucille nodded. "We'll find out after Dinner, won't we?"

"Unfortunately no," I said. "I still have a Tutoring Session with Black."

"Ooh!" Tamara cried, making herself heard. She had been Bouncing In Her Seat since I had come in and sat down. Poor girl was probably doped up on sugar. "Sirius Black is so handsome!"

The Kitchens.

After Dinner was over, I bade a sorrow-filled, anxious goodbye to MFRG, and made my way down to The Kitchens.

I made Black agree before we even entered The Great Hall to leaving at separate times after Dinner so no one would think anything of Extreme Lascivious Import would be going on between us. It was one thing, certainly, to be seen walking to a classroom together…or into The Great Hall. It was an entirely separate thing for me to be seen walking to The Kitchens with Black. Everyone knew Consorting Couples went to The Kitchens. Everyone.

Why_ Black and I_ should go to The Kitchens, especially directly after Dinner, is beyond me. But Black did say it was cozier.

Hmmph. Cozier my arse!

Black has probably enlisted the House-Elves to give me some poisoned tea and wants to see me kick it.

Well, Black, I have News for you:

I am not going to kick it in front of you.

If I have to die at sixteen, I am going to do it in the comfort of my own bed in Ravenclaw Tower with my friends about me holding my hand, not near Your Incredibly Hateful Presence.

"A Student-y! A Student-y!" the Elves cried, as soon as I had Tickled The Pear on the Fruit Portrait and entered. "What can us Elvsies do for youse?"

"Well," I said, used to their servile reaction since my family happened to have a couple House-Elves of our own at home. "I am meeting my pupil here for his lessons. Sirius Black. Do you know him?"

The Elves nodded enthusiastically. Two likely fellows pulled out a chair for me at a Large Table and pushed me into it. "We is knowing the Syrupy Black," they said.

"You call him, 'Syrupy?'" I said. "How delightful!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"It's a lovely name! Syrupy! Syrupy! Syrupy! Syrupy!"

The House-Elves, happy that I seemed happy, started imitating me. "Syrupy!" they chorused in their squeaky voices. "Syrupy! Syrupy! Syrupy!"

"Syrupy!" I greeted Black, seeing him walk in. "You didn't tell me you had such a fine nickname!" Why so, Black Ho?

Black grimaced. "The Elves got stuck on it in my first year," he explained. "For some reason they can't pronounce, 'Sirius.'"

"Shame!"

"Is Mr. Syrupy and his guest wanting some things to eat?" the House-Elf who looked to be in charge asked an annoyed Black while I continued to giggle. "Dinner is just being over with. There was being enoughs foods for youse wasn't theres?"

Black and I nodded our heads—The House-Elves looked very concerned that our answer be in the affirmative. "No worries!" said Black, trying to calm them down. "We just thought this would be cozier than a stuffy old classroom!"

"We keep our Kitchens nice and sparkly!" chimed another House-Elf in agreement.

"'_We'?" _I asked Black, after The House-Elves had seated him in a chair. _'We'_ thought it would be cozier? Since when are we a unit, Black? I would have preferred our classroom."

Black grinned, Apparently no longer embarrassed I knew his secret cheesy nickname. "We, me," Black said. "Same thing!"

"Uh…"

"So, this is nice, isn't it?" said Black, glancing around. "No draft from the windows leaking in, no excessive sunlight…"

"All classrooms are charmed," I informed him.

Black ignored me. "Even no McGonagall! Why, Raisin, we don't even have to study! We could simply talk! Or snog!"

"But I don't want to talk," I said, deliberately only focusing on the first part of Black's statement. "I want to study."

"Well, fine, we'll study. But let's talk about Us first."

I stared at Black uncomfortably. "What do you mean?"

"What do you mean what do I mean?" Black said. "You read my note right in front of me, didn't you? Have I not been following you around like a lost puppy for the past week?"

I sighed. "Syrupy."

"Don't call me that!" Black ordered. "My name is '_Sirius'."_

"Fine!" I began again, "Black…"

"Sirius," Black repeated. "Call me 'Sirius'."

"But Black has such a better ring to it!" I said.

"I want you to call me 'Sirius'!"

"That's all well and good, Black," I responded. "Only, since I'm my own person, I don't have to do everything you tell me to."

Black rolled his eyes. "If we're going to be dating—."

"Hold up!" I said. I raised my hand for Effect, because I was honestly curious. "Who told you we'd be dating? Who said anything about dating? We're not dating!"

"Why, me!" Black said, looking confused. He grabbed my hand. "In my note, Raisin. Look—."

I shook him off. "Oh, no! Oh, no! We are _not_ dating, Black!"

"But we're on a date!" said Black in an Obvious Voice. "We're in The Kitchens!"

"We're on a Tutoring Session!" I corrected. "That happens to be in The Kitchens! Venue doesn't matter as long we both know that we're studying."

"But we're not studying!" Black said. "We're talking!"

"You make a good point, Black," I said. "So, let's get a move on it. Where are your notes? Let's get them out! I want to see them. We've lost valuable minutes already."

"My dog ate them again. Look," his voice was intense, "I just want to talk to you for a minute without you jumping down my throat about how I am taking up your time or about how I am bothering you or about how I am making you late to your classes. I want to get to know _you,_ Raisin. The girl behind the books. Not the Tutor." I stared, and Black smiled. "Don't you want the same from me? Oh! Here comes our tea!"

"Thank you," I said numbly to The House-Elf who handed me my cup.

The Elf bobbed her head. "Missy is working to please, ma'am!"

"Thank you, Missy." I took a cautious sip of my tea, not really thinking that it might be dangerous to do so, only thinking that I didn't want my tongue burnt. "Mmm, Jasmine!"

"You like it?" Black asked.

It was delicious. "Jasmine's my favorite."

Black gave me a toast. "Mine too!" Black sighed. "If only they hadn't laced yours with Belladona!"

I spit out my mouthful of tea, and reached for my wand. _"What?" _I snarled.

"Joking!" said Black. "Only Joking!"

Black hadn't gotten The House-Elves to lace my tea with Belladonna, I'd find out soon. No, Not Belladonna.

An Expungent.

Black didn't like me! Of course, Black didn't like me! It was Impossible for Black to like me. I Was Such A Fool.

(And I would kill him.)


	13. Chapter 13

_Still In The Kitchens._

I Don't Feel So Good.

My stomach started roiling thirty seconds ago, and I can feel in my blood and bones that Anywhere Near Food is not a good place for me to be right now.

I made myself look at Black. "I have to go," I mumbled, now horrifically feeling the onset of Shite Poking Through My Knickers Like A Prairie Dog. I pulled away from The Table, grabbing up my bag. I spared a goodbye for The Elves—it wasn't their fault Black could manipulate them with Promises Of Extra Work, it was only in their Nature after all—and left.

This had all sprung up on me so quickly!

I shouldn't have drunk that tea when I knew I hadn't ordered it, I know that now. I knew in the back of my mind it was a mistake, but I just like tea so damn much, and I was comforted by the innate honesty The House Elf Race that I couldn't help it. Black was drinking it, and I thought it was alright. I hadn't been in my right mind, clearly. I seem to be paying for that now.

"Are you alright?" Black asked.

I sneered at him.

After I am back to normal, after this little Episode has passed me by, I swear to you, I swear to you, Syrupy Black, on Merlin's _Grave,_ I am going to make you pay. Do you hear me? On Merlin's Grave. I am swearing vengeance.

How will I make Black pay, do you ask? Oh, Black would like to know how, I am sure of that. You all would like to know how.

But I am not going to write it down or say anything more about it, except for this:

Like all Old Pureblood Families, mine has Connections. My Grandmum is Very Familiar with Arcturus Black, who just so happens to be Sirius Black's Grandfather. So stuff that down your nasty gullet and digest it, Syrupy!

Black's mum, when she finds out (and she will, you may count on that) about her son's awful behavior towards me, will proceed to whoop Black to within an inch of his life.

And that is fact. We of Upper Class are very attached to corporal punishment. Black will come home from Holiday looking bruised and used, and he will be limping on both of his legs, and unable to strut around, and I will rejoice.

But right now, that future comfort kind of pales in comparison to what I am about to suffer through.

"Oh shite! Oh shite!" I started moving like The Furies were at my back in a speed walk all the more panicked for its look of ridiculousness. I needed a loo, pronto. I did not notice Black following behind.

"Is everything okay?" he said.

He had no right to act concerned. "What are you doing?" I demanded, noticing now how Black was now only two steps away. "Get back, you jackarse! Go back to your hole!"

"I was worried," Black said, moving closer. I backed up. "So I followed you. You left really abruptly, Raisey."

"Well, I have delicate digestive problems!" I said. "Please leave!" I knew not to listen to Black now. Anything Sirius Black said would be taken as the lie for what it was. Thinks he can be try to be accommodating towards me after he poisons me? Thinks that does he? Like the psychopath with his victim he hurt too harshly too soon? Well, think again! I'll show him!

I'll show them all.

Black grinned.

(Edit: at this point, I feel it's prudent to point out that I should have known something Even Fishier was about to occur, because Black only smiles like this when he is having fun at Someone's Expense, but I did not really think about it; being too concerned as I was with shaking Black off and finding a restroom stall where I could have some Privacy to sit down in and Birth My Small Poo Baby. This lapse was obviously a mistake.)

"I'll stand outside. Make sure you're okay. How's that?" Black suggested.

_"Why are you still here?"_ I said desperately.

Black just shrugged.

"Oh, very well!" I had found Eden anyway; in the form of a first floor loo. I stumbled past Black and entered. "You make sure you stay outside, then."

No one was in there, Thank Merlin. I don't know how I would have coped if I had to run all the way up to the Prefect's Bathroom on the fifth floor just to have a loo to myself. I opened a stall door and unbuttoned my plaid skirt and sat down, thinking all the while of Unnecessarily Attractive Sirius Black standing right outside. Thinking of the possibility of him hearing my shite plop into the toilet bit by bit as it came out of my arse. The threat loomed Ever Greater as the seconds passed by. It was nightmarish.

I felt every _plonk_ of water reverberate in my soul like echoing doldrums; all the more dramatic for the depression they were putting me in. Awful. Awful, awful, awful. This was awful, wasn't it?

Was I stupid?

Was I a dumbarse?

Who takes tea from Sirius Black without checking for Expungents first? Who?

"Oh, _fuck!"_ I groaned, feeling my stomach rebel, feeling a little bit better and little more horrified after every little gurgle my intestines made. I hope Black _was_ disgusted! It would serve him right for making my life a living hell all throughout my time at Hogwarts. He was probably right now sneering at the bathroom door. Well, that was fine. Let him enjoy his last minutes. He had the arse-kicking of his life coming to him once I got out.

"Are you alright?" Black called. "You've been in there a while!"

_"Silencio."_ The thought that maybe I should affect a silencing charm had just occurred to me. I waved my wand in front of my pants, and around the stall, and directly behind the toilet seat for good measure. _"Silencio magnus," _I intoned. That should do it.

"…Evie?"

"What gives Black the right to think he can call me that?" I grumbled, Annoyed At Everything. "I don't call him, 'Siri,' do I? I call him 'Black,' as is proper. And I haven't spiked his tea, the pillocky, naffy bastard. I've been very kind. I helped him gain an Acceptable."

"Are you alright?"

"No! I'm not bloody fucking alright, you bastard!" I yelled at the stall door, at least comfortable in the fact that Black couldn't hear me. "I'm on my period, and I've just found that out for fuck's sake, you dumb, dumb shite! You gave me something evil! _Blood _is leaking out of two orifices, one in my arse, one in my woman bits. And I feel like I am shite-ing out my first-born child! All thanks to you and your charming acting abilities! Howcan I possibly be alright, you stupid, _stupid, _fucking wanker?"

Since it felt therapuetic, I started cursing some more. I usually am not this verbose with my language. In truth, I've been very sheltered. But there's nothing wrong with a potty mouth in the potty. Something quite fitting about it, actually. "Bloody-fucking-_helllll!_ Argh!" I panted. "Seriously, seriously, fucking shite. What the fuck? Merlin! _What the fuck?_ What did I do, really, to deserve this? I am a good girl, deep down. I am. I mean, sometimes, I am bad. Truly, truly awful. But more often…_aiiii!_" This had better end soon. Weren't Expungents supposed to make things turn runny? Nothing seemed to be in a hurry to rush out. "More often that not," I whispered in a broken voice, "I am blood fucking wonderful to Mankind."

I yelled for a few minutes more. It is always best to get the Aggression out when no one can hear you. By the time my rant was through, I was breathing quite heavily and my voice felt hoarse.

"Do you want me to come in?" asked Black stupidly, this time sounding a bit worried by my apparent silence.

I bit my lip, holding back a frustrated scream. Perhaps all my yelling wasn't through with yet? I realized at that next moment that there was nothing for it in the end, but to yell. Black couldn't hear me anyway, so I might as well just let it all out and be done; and come out of this experience a sunnier human being. "Leave me alone! Leave me alone!"

One minute later, the toilet was flushed, the Silencing-Charms had been lifted, and I was about half a stone lighter.

Everyone has felt the relief of a shite well done with. You, Dear Reader, know what I am referring to. You can literally feel the fresh air rising up your arse, and it is magnificent. The pleasure of it almost makes you a little dizzy. The feeling is close to orgasmic, because your muscles are no longer contracting or spasm-ising, and you feel like your arse has just had the work-out of its life. Washing my hands, I whistled jauntily. Everything feels so fresh and new.

I no longer quite hate the world as much as I did five minutes ago. Or for that matter, I no longer want each and every male in it (Except for Black, of course!) to experience even an ounce of my previous misery. I have a whole new lease on life. Can Conquer Anything. Imagine my surprise and horror then, to come out of my sanctuary, and into a waiting crowd of about fifty Hogwarts' students: some from my year, but most of them from the year above me. Some of them were giggling. Some of them were looking disgusted that I had the temerity to shite in a toilet. All of them were smug. All of them were staring.

For approximately two seconds, I was utterly, utterly speechless.

I looked to Black with a question on my face.

"Wha—?"

"Surprise!" said Black of The Thousand Silly Pranks, Grinning Moronically at me. And everyone started laughing. "Raisin, you really do need to work on your silencing charms! Or…" Black was twirling what looked like an exact replica of my cherry wood wand through his fingertips. To calm down, I fingered mine in my pocket. _"Or _you need to be more Vigilant over your possessions! Why, anyonecould steal them, dear! And you would never know, would you? _You would never know!"_

I felt again for my supposedly fake wand. "Oh no!"

It had just turned into a rubber chicken.

Why hadn't it changed the second I had used it?

Why? I would like to know why.

Perhaps, Evelyn, because Black wanted his revenge on you?

Yes, Perhaps.

This night was not going right at all!

Taking a minute to process it:

Rage is a funny thing. So is mortification.

I never really knew how to handle either when they sprung up on me, because they were both so extreme. As a Ravenclaw, I liked to think that I was above such silly things as feelings, but as a human, I know deep down I am not. I cannot really control my emotions when I want to. Emotions are, in their Nature, Uncontrollable. There is this saying my mum is fond of and it goes like this: "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."

Well, I have tried to stick by that. I have tried to let it be a guideline in how I live my life and interact with other people, but right now, looking at Sirius Black, looking at him smile at me like this Is The Best Joke In The World—for half of the upper years to hear me curse about shite-ing in a toilet (something that should have remained very private)—I think is the Final Proof that I just do not seem to be able to remain as distant as I would like.

Sirius Black is a nuisance. I have now realized he is my Nemesis. Yes, He, not Mara Dice.

I can say with Unequivocal Honesty that I would not mind if I could kill Black slowly right now.

#1: Wring his neck.

#2: Bash in his head.

#3: Stomp on his ribs.

They all sound like very delicious choices of annihilation, and while it is true I have a choice, it is the first question that still has not changed. What should I feel? Rage or mortification? I do not know which emotion to pick. Rage and mortification are funny things and I cannot decide which feeling is more prevalent at the moment. Ironically enough, however, the longer I stay silent and think about this, the longer a third, very tiny, very weak feeling has a chance to crop up on me.

And this feeling is the reluctant acknowledgment of a Game Well Played.

Part of me feels like sticking out my hands and applauding. The Black Hole got me good, and I have to accept that. I do not want to. But I must, because it is literally facing me right now.

"Cat got your tongue?" jeered Black, no longer smiling.

"Oh, Syrupy! You messed with the wrong girl, you piece of shite motherfucker."

The people around us "ooh"ed and edged closer. "Scary!" Black said. "Like I give a damn what you could do to me! You're lily-white. You're a snowflake."

"Well, you should."

_Ravenclaw 6__th__ year Girls' Dorm Room._

"Here to begin This Second, Unprecedented Meeting Of The Minds This Term," Lucille said, tapping the carpeted floor with the gavel we used for such purposes, "is Evelyn Ransom with a Story. Evelyn?"

MFRG turned to stare at me. "Thank you," I said regally. "I have much to say."

"Please proceed," Lucille encouraged.

"Ladies!" I said in a Carrying Voice, noting each face around the circle and meeting their gazes, "We have a Problem! We have a Problem, and his name is Sirius Black!"

"That is Old News!" said Lucille. Tamara nodded.

"Ah, but not what he did to me tonight!" I said, leaning forward, and unfortunately wincing, still smarting over the Horror of an hour ago. "You have not heard this!"

"What did he do?" asked everyone together.

"Among other things," I said, "Black stole my wand!"

"No! Black stole your _wand?!"_ As Magical Persons here, we all knew what a Tremendous Breach In Personal Safety this was to a person. "That great _arsehole!" _said Camilla.

"Just so!" I agreed. "And that's not all! There's more. Much, much more!"

Camilla moved forward so her knee touched mine. "What happened?" she asked.

"Black laced my tea with an Expungent!" I said, amid gasps. I nodded vigorously. "And I had to leave the Tutoring Session early to run to the bathroom, and Black followed me, and he waited outside, with my stolen wand in his Nefarious Grasp, and when I tried to enact a _silencio,_ it didn't work, because it was a fake wand, and everyone, _everyone_ heard me going poo! Everyone!"

"Oh, you poor dear!" Reaching across the circle, Tamara squeezed my hand. "Group hug?" Tamara invited.

I leaned away. "That's okay, Tammy," I said. "Hugging isn't going to take away my anger right now."

Lucille looked at me. "It could!" she said. "Maybe we should do a group hug? I think it would be best!"

"No." I shook my head. "I don't want to! No group hug!"

"Oh, come on!" Lucille said, already edging closer. "It'll be good for you! Give in, Evie."

"You want to know what I think will be good for me?" I asked her. "For Sirius Black to be pranked." Tamara put a hand to her mouth in horror. "Yes! I said it! That's right! I want That Bastard to go down! He's gone too damn far this time! Expungent!" I cried, overcome. _"Expungent!_ Who the fuck does that? We're Hogwarts students not St. Mungo's mentally ill patients! Who the fuck does Black think he is?"

"Sirius Black," Lucille said calmly. Obviously. "He thinks he is Sirius Black. And you know it. We are way out of our league with this."

"Well, do you know who _I_ am?" I said arrogantly, not put out at all. _"I_ am Evelyn Ransom of the Derbyshire Ransoms!"

"_You _are thinking like a Gryffindor!" Lucille muttered, but I ignored her.

"And my family is much older and much more important than his is. My parents _can take him down!" _

"I thought you weren't one to run to your parents!" replied Lucille disapprovingly. On Lucille's face was a genuine grimace at the thought of me doing such a whiney, baby-ish thing. Poor Lucille. Did she not know by now that I was not above such game playing? "Cannot we solve our own problems?" she wondered. "We don't have to turn to our parents for this! We can get our own revenge, surely?"

"You don't have to turn to _your_ parents," I said. "But I am certainly turning to mine."

"You're sixteen!" yelled Lucille. "Act your age! You should be adult enough—!"

"I have yet to reach my majority!" I bickered back. "One more year. In the mean time, I will damn well act like a child!"

"Listen!" said Lucille. I closed my mouth with a snap. "Listen. Are you all listening to me?" Camilla and Tamara nodded. Lucille stared at me intently until I did the same. "Good! Evelyn, listen: You are not going to your parents with this, I Forbid It." Lucille slashed her hand for emphasis. "But we are your friends, aren't we? We are all going to help you solve this, aren't we? I am still under the impression Black just meant it as a little joke, but if that's not the case then—."

"Of course he meant it as a Little Joke!" I burst out. "That's all life is to Black: One Little Joke after another! He needs to learn that sometimes, some things have to be serious! Sometimes, when you interact with people and open up to them, you have to be sincere!"

"I agree," said Lucille. "Which is why I think this Tutoring has been good for him. Remus was just saying this morning how—."

I held up a hand. "Please!" I said. "Please do not say it! It's all been an act, can't you see that? Black's Deranged! He wanted to get back at me for _tutoring_ him, do you know how sick that is? How twisted? I was helping him, for Merlin's sake! And not by my choice, either, but because McGonagall said she would write me a recommendation if I upped his grade. Don't you see how much of a Menace Black can be? And I haven't even done anything to him! I helped him!"

Lucille nodded, not looking moved. "I do see," she said. "But I still stand by my earlier conviction of you being good for him."

"Oh, Christ!" I said. "I am the _worst person_ for Black right now!" I looked at Camilla. "The Worst. Cam, what do you think? Do you see my hands shaking?" I held the hands in question up.

"They are shaking, Evie, yes," she noted.

I nodded. "Right. So, seeing this, would you put me in a room with Black right now? Anything could happen with Body Tremors like these, Cam. Anything! And I don't know if I'd be able to do any Damage Control whatsoever. I ask you a third time: would you put us in the same room?"

"I wouldn't!" put in Tamara.

I gestured at her. "See? See? There we are, girls! Lucille? Camilla?' I looked at each of my friends in turn. "Tammy has the right of it! I am not stable like this! I can't be around boys right now!" I paused. "…I don't think I can even be around Girls That Smell Of Boys right now!"

"That's ridiculous!" stated Lucille. "If anyone smells like Boy, then it is you, since you were just alone with one!"

"Don't make it sound dirty!" I chastised. "It wasn't!"

"But it could have been!" said Lucille with a grin. "It's a shame you can't take a joke."

"Whose side are you on anyhow?" I demanded. "Has Pervy Lupin been telling you things?"

"What things would he tell me?" Lucille asked.

I shrugged. "Ask me some time about an Invisibility Cloak."

"What? What does that have to do with anything?"

"You don't know?"


	14. Chapter 14

_The Quidditch Pitch._

Worst night of sleep possible. As result, even though this is Saturday Morning and schedule is free to laze about in, I crawled out from cocoon of covers around two hours ago, grabbed my new broom from under bed, washed my face (have since noticed a Stress Spot is forming!), changed into some Muggle Sweating Clothes, and walked outside to fly around Pitch and let out some steam.

In these Dark Days, it is probably not the best of choices to be out here while it is still gray, and without any adult supervision besides, but I am really at the point where I feel like any person who decides to come out right now and challenge me should Just Try It.

Have you ever felt Invincible from your anger?

Well, that is how I am feeling right now.

I feel Righteous and Ready To Enact Revenge against Black. I have already started wording a letter to my parents. And I Know that anyone who was to come upon me now with the intent to do ill, would soon find that challenging an angry female to the death is not the best course of action.

I cannot believe what he did to me last night. I never knew a grown wizard could be so immature. It boggles, it does.

Is what is does.

It boggles. And I am going to tell my parents.

Lucille thinks she can manage me? Well, no thank you, Lucille.

Running to my parents is the only joy I will have out of this situation. As much as I say they are neglectful, as much as I say they hate the Finer Wizarding Pursuits Of Life (i.e. Quidditch), my parents are still my parents and I think _(I__ think)_ they still love me. I think they will protect me. They still love Apollon and Annabella anyway. And for that matter they also still adore their newest child (who hasn't been mentioned before, because I simply sometimes do not care), three-year-old Aloysius.

Why do not I have an "A" name, you wonder? Well, "A" names are stupid. Annabella has gotten the only good one for a girl. What would have been left for me? Alice? Abelinda? Agatha?

No, thank you.

Evelyn is a beautiful name. It may have, a century or so ago, been stolen by certain greedy mamas to give to their male offspring, but everyone knows now that a boy who has the name "Evelyn" is someone to be laughed at; which is why Evelyn is the perfect name for me. Is not it fitting somehow, that its origin is "Avis"? Am I not in the air as we speak, flying around?

The answer to both questions is "yes."

I feel a bit Glorious right now. I am still horribly angry at Black. But the wind is working a number on my skin, rubbing it raw and making my nose all runny. My lips are cracking down the middle and starting to bleed; I can taste the iron on them. It is so damn cold out but I do not care. I chose to not enact a Warming Charm. I do not care. I am Loving The Elements. And they are Loving Me.

And I think I want to be ill. Being ill will at least put me in the Hospital Wing for a couple of days. In the Hospital Wing I will be safe from Black and all of his evil machinations. Madam Pomfrey would never allow her patients to be distressed and aggrieved by unwanted visitors. I believe Pomfrey was a sea kraken in a former life.

Perhaps Pomfrey will shoo out Lucille as well? I know, out of everyone, Lucille is the person most likely to badger me back into good health. I would not want that. Lucille would never give it up.

See?

I am already thinking like a person with Muggle Pneumonia! Scatterbrained thoughts and feverish maneuverings. This is marvelous.

Maybe I should just take a potion to speed the process up? If I really want to be Incognito these next few days, a potion would be sure to do it.

Fucking, Buggering Hell, Speaking Of Potions, if I were ill, no one I trust with my project would be able to check up on my Polyjuice and gradually add in ingredients. There is Severus Snape, my project partner, of course (and thinking about that boy some more, it may be possible that he would take some pity on me for being on Black's Bad Side right now), but do I really want to take the chance that I won't get yelled at? From what I have seen, Snape has been very touchy ever since the beginning of term with Potter making Head Boy.

No. No, I do not want to take that chance. I do not want to be yelled at. I already feel much violated from having Black take my wand and replace it with a fake one. Getting yelled at by another seventh year would probably make me start weeping like a baby.

How Sirius Black stole my wand, I still have yet to find out.

I obviously was not paying attention to my surroundings. Perhaps Black grabbed it out of my hand when I fell against him on The Grand Staircase?

Thinking. But I had since used that wand several times; notably to present my personal magical signature on to the parchment; which we all know, had to have worked since Black's stupid scrawl appeared immediately afterwards. This leads me to believe that the possibility of wand-stealing in that instance was impossible. Hmmm. I have time. The sun has not even risen yet. I have plenty of time to think about this without interruption and derive a conclusion.

Oh, Black.

You tosser.

Will we not smash you up eventually? Will we not tear you to pieces for daring to be so…so…Sirius Black-y? Oh, I believe we will.

_The Great Hall._

"Stop frowning," Lucille ordered me. "Everyone is looking. They'll think you think something is wrong."

"Something_ is_ wrong." I had come into The Great Hall only two minutes ago, and Every Single Person in it was staring at me and sniggering. Bless. I glared at Black. Of course it was his Fault. "And they all know what it is."

"Well, you don't have to act like it!" snapped Lucille. "That's what they want: for you to act like it! Do you want to give those ugly bints what they want or do you want to be smart and outsmart them?"

"I want to outsmart them," I replied. "But it's hard! They're all looking at me. Before I walked in, do you know what Stuart Diggory said to me?"

"No, but I'm sure you'll enlighten me."

I nodded. "That's right, I will. We were going down The Stairs together, do you remember?" Lucille's face signaled that she did. "And then, Out Of Nowhere, you got waylaid by Lupin, who dragged you away to make love—."

"Please leave Remus out of this!" Lucille requested. "He has done nothing."

I stared at her. "Do you find it hard to divide your loyalties, Lucille? Is it very trying for you? How upsetting. I am so sorry you have to feel that way—."

"Go on!" Lucille interrupted. "Just…finish your story!"

"Thank you!" I began again, "And then, since Camilla—as we know—is apparently more interested with eating with her boyfriend this morning…" We all looked down The Table at the Couple In Question then turned back to our food a little less hungry. I understand Priorities Change when you have a boyfriend but Why Do They Have To? Lucille isn't sitting with Pervy Lupin. "Tamara and I were left to combat the hordes alone. And there were hordes, Lucille. There were hordes."

"That's all very interesting," Lucille responded. "But it still doesn't tell me anything about Stuart Diggory."

Tamara started giggling uncontrollably. "Tamara?" I asked, with difficulty, because sometimes I did not know how to put up with her. "Is everything alright?"

"I think Stuart fancies you!" she said. Tamara turned to Lucille. "He stopped her from walking in The Hall and everything! Touched her arm!" Tamara confided. "He would only look at her!"

Lucille gave me an interested smile. "Interesting! And so the tables have turned!"

"No, they have not turned!" I said. "They have not turned at all! They are still facing south, towards hell. You don't even know what that fool said to me, Lucille. You're just going off the fact that a boy opened his mouth in front of me and out sprouted words!"

"And touched you!" Tamara added.

"To get my attention!" I told the both of them. "That was all."

"Well, what did he say?" asked Lucille.

Tamara's giggling increased to the point where I actually became frightened she might start to dry heave. "He s-s-said…h-he s-s-said—!"

"He said that he forgot over the past couple years how entertaining I could be," I answered for her. "It wasn't a compliment! He was there last night. He meant that he's never heard me swear so much or seen me run so fast. Well, I didn't run fast," I continued with alacrity, "I didn't run at all. I stood there and took it like a Man, and then walked away."

"Walked away?" Lucille asked. "Are you sure you don't mean you 'ran'?"

"Yes!" I said. "Yes, I am sure! I would never run away from such a thing! That would be the worst sort of social suicide! Of course I didn't run!"

"I never knew you to be one concerned with popularity," Lucille commented, narrowing her eyes at me. I stabbed at a sausage. To a certain point, one had to be concerned with their popularity, especially since we lived in a school. It was about survival.

"Isn't it hard to be concerned when you're not popular?" I said. "Because, I am not. And I am not concerned that much. I just don't want Black's girlfriends following me about and cat-calling. I don't think that's too much to ask for."

"Maybe you should talk to Black about this. I still don't believe—."

"Lucille!" I sighed and set down my fork. "It hasn't even been a full day. It's been about twelve hours. Of course you still don't believe that Black had anything but my best interests at heart. And I guess that's okay. You're entitled to your own opinion, but at least respect that I have mine. Black is Evil."

"Oh, pish!" Lucille said. "Black isn't Evil."

"Alright," I said, "I grant you, we may have different definitions of Evil. Black may not be Evil if you consider that The Defining Evil Wizard of our generation is You-Know-Who. I grant you this." Lucille and Tamara both nodded. "But: if there were an Evil-Ness Spectrum, Black would surely be somewhere after me and before You-Know-Who."

Lucille took a moment to go over that in her head. "Agreed," she said finally.

_Fifth Floor On The Way To The Prefects' Bathroom._

"No Invisibility Cloak this morning?" I greeted Black, watching him swagger up to me after I got off The Stairs. Apparently he had been waiting for my appearance? That was not a good thought. Bugger must have spies. "I am disappointed."

Black shrugged. "I took your advice. Sounded like a good idea."

"Really? _Black_ agreeing with me?" I looked around wildly. "Where are the cameras? The Other Media Crew? Where is The Wizengamot Note-Taker to note such an Auspicious Occasion? For surely this is an event to remember!"

"Stop talking!" Black said, holding up a hand and looking Quite Annoyed—ha! I say to that (ha!) "Please! You're giving me a headache. But I guess that's nothing new, right? I mean, you always were the most bothersome baggage."

"Oh!"

"You really are touchy this morning, aren't you?" said Black, now grinning cheekily. "So sensitive! Last night was just a joke, you realize."

"Just a joke?" I repeated, horrified by Black's clueless-ness. "Last night was just a joke to you? Do you know what you did to me?" I started laughing a bit. "_Of course _you don't know what you did to me, Black! _Of course _you don't realize that you violated me in almost every possible way! And of course what you did last night was just a joke, was funny! I remember now, how fucking funny it was, Black!"

"Language!" Black chided. "Raisin, do you kiss your mum with that mouth?"

"I don't kiss my mum—."

Black nodded sympathetically. "Bad relations? That's sad. I'm sorry for you."

"—At least not like you do!" I finished. "You've got to stop interrupting people!" I informed. "Does your face smell like arse this morning, mummy kiss-arse?" I moved closer, staring up at Black in inspection. "Here, maybe I should check for you."

Black frowned at me. "If anyone's face smells like arse this morning, it's yours, Raisin. Always cozening up to professors! Well, I told you not to tutor me, but did you listen? No. And look what happened: you got humiliated!"

"You stole my wand!" I said, pointing my finger at him. "It wasn't very nice! And when I was helping you, too!"

"I'm sorry," Black said, Not Sounding Sorry At All. "It was just there." He shrugged like: What Could He Do?

"_Where was it? How_ did you take it? I had a charm on it to prevent that from happening. You shouldn't have been able to touch it, Black."

Black pouted. "Now that would be _telling!"_

"Yes! That _would_ be telling, wouldn't it? Telling is exactly what I want you to do for me. So tell me. Now."

Black shook his head. "I am sorry, I can't. It's not in my nature to answer to annoying, whinging little girls like you. Maybe if you turned on the charm a bit, I'd be more amenable."

I turned around and started walking away. "You don't deserve my charm!" I muttered. "Stupid, poncy, little maggot."

"What was that?" Black breathed in my ear, having followed me. I glowered at him. "Are you making fun of me again?"

"Caught that did you? Well, have some more!" I commenced a thorough kicking of Black's shins—which were unprotected and Right There. Really, anyone would do it. "Teachyou to lace my tea with—!"

"_Ow!"_ Black danced away. _"Ow!_ What in Merlin's _na—? _ Stop that now, do you hear me, Raisin?!"

"Teach _you_ to steal my wand," I cried, chasing Black down The Hall, when he tried to run away. "Come back here, you dirty piss pot! I have more kicking to do! My fetish for S and M is at an all particular!"

"Ow!_ You bugger!"_

"Teach _you _to call me names!"

"_I gave it back!" _Black said, grabbing onto my leg—holding it hostage, really—so I couldn't kick anymore. He gave it a hard shake. "You s-stop this! You stop this right now, alright? I gave it back, and you know it!"

"Not before you surely contaminated it!" I growled, trying to tug my leg free. Black was strong, he was! Why was Black so strong? "I am g-going to have to hand it over to _Fl-Flitwick_ now to check for spells!"

"No!" Black said. "You don't want to do that! I didn't mean it like that! It was just a joke!"

"Oh?" I was pleased that my threat had gotten Black's attention. "Oh? I don't want to?"

"No, you don't."

"What do I want to do instead? Other than see you dead, that is? See you buried under a pile of shite with my flag stuck in it holding precedence?"

"If all it took was a little joke to get over your shyness, Raisin…"

"Black!" I said, Very Annoyed. He was still holding my leg in his Pincer-Grip, and I couldn't kick him, because It Hurt To Move! Merlin, was this not my week. "What do I want to do?"

"Well, you want to stop struggling, I'll tell you that right now! You're giving me bruises and scuff marks on my trousers!"

"Oh, boohoo!" I wailed. "Scuff marks on your _trousers!_ How will we_ ever_ get them off? We'll need magic, and we certainly don't have that! Oh, woe!" Black rolled his eyes, and then decided that yes, my leg did need another Good Shake. "Give me back my leg, Black!" I ordered.

"No!"

"I said, 'give it'!"

"And I said 'no!'"

I tried a different tactic. "Why are you so concerned with holding onto it, anyway?" I asked. "Is it because you can't stand to not touch a part of me? I agree my leg is very nice!"

Black's entire demeanor changed abruptly. "That's how it is, is it?" he said, now leering down at me. He shifted my leg in his grasp so he was now cradling it; and by momentum I was dragged into his chest. "Knew you'd come around! I thought it might be, but I wasn't sure. This is very nice!"

"Uh…"

"See, Raisin! Diggory was right! You are entertaining when you want to be!"

"And you're a dumbarse."

"And, so…ah, ah!" chastised Black, clicking his tongue. "Not very good, Miss Manners! Whose possession is your leg in, hmm? I believe mine."

"I can still damage you!" I said. "Whose willie is my shoe lying against, Black? I believe mi—."

Immediately, Black released my leg. Threw it away, really, is how it can be described. I tumbled to the floor and bounced. _"Ack! Easy now, yo__u__ great arsehole!"_

"Don't come near me!" Black shouted, looking indecisive as to whether he wanted to stay in The Hallway and annoy me further or go. I was all for the choice of Black Going. "Don't come near me!"

"My whole plan was to _get away!"_ I snapped back. "Awful, pillocky, twat-y, smelly little bastard!"

"Did you just call me a 'twat'?" Black demanded, evidently staying for the moment. "I don't have a twat!"

"Well you sure as Hades don't have any bollocks!"I yelled, starting to collect my possessions and rise from the floor. Ow, ow, ow, ow! I brandished my wand, and with a flick, my broom was swept up into my arms. I gave Black a cold stare. "Otherwise you would have swallowed this tutoring thing down, and been mature about it."

"I didn't want a tutor!" whined Black. Having watched me rise warily he now had the look of a Trapped Rabbit about him. I thought about advancing, but I was honestly sore from fighting. "I should have been able to drop the class!"

"This is not my fault!" I said. "I am not Professor McGonagall!"

"As good as!" Black said.

I gave him a confused look. "What? What does that mean?"

Black shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. You're a Prefect…"

I sighed. "Black. I have no idea what you're talking about, as per usual, but I am going to go." I gestured at my sweaty sweating pants. "I'm past due for my shower, anyway. In fact, I think my leg has sweated all over you. You have a stain." I nodded at Black's left trouser leg rather near his crotch. "Or, I hope that's sweat."

Black looked down. "So, I do," he observed. "Well, thanks for that, I say."

I smiled sweetly. "You're quite welcome! Always a pleasure to make you uncomfortable. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

"I'll see you later, I guess," Black said with a vicious look, seeing me hobble away. "Hoping for a repeat."

I turned my head. "What? Of holding me again?"

"Yea."

"Right." I nodded. "Me too." I would see Black in Hell before I allowed him to touch me further.

(Oh, Evelyn, too soon! Too soon! You said those words too soon! Don't count your chickens before they hatch! You'll regret it!)

(Edit: Wise Words)


	15. Chapter 15

_Transfiguration Classroom._

"Hellooo, Poopy!"

I loathe Sirius Black.

The following week has been no less than Hellish. Because of all this stress, I have not had the time I feel I need to develop a suitable punishment for Black, other than running to my parents, which, let's face it, is a bit unimaginative, but rest assured that One Is In The Works.

I received an owl from my mother early yesterday morning saying that she and my father were coming for a visit this Saturday to talk over recent happenings with me. I am both nervous and excited for enlisting my parent's aid. Once I go down the slippery path of tattling, no boy will ever trust me again. It will follow on the grapevine that I am a tattler, a stinkrot, a rat, and my dating options at Hogwarts will be reduced to Slythern 4th form boys. I think, however, it might just be a Just Sacrifice to make. Sirius Black needs to die.

Due to my Notoriety, I now have a new nickname everyone and his mother insists on calling me. If you need a Refresher Course in why this should be so, here you have it:

#1: Since Sirius Black is a Prat Of The First Water, I felt compelled, regrettably, while I was in the first floor Loo on Friday night, to scream and rant about him in a most surprising and revealing manner. I ranted about poo-ing and screamed about poo-ing and evidently the Silencing Charms I had enacted with my switched wand turned out to be Sound Enhancers instead. Such disgustingness seemed like a bit too far, even for Sirius Black to go, but here we have it. I am now fully in the ranks of social pariah-dom.

Black and his minions received a curious insight into my psyche during the past few days, and they pretty much know now, if they hadn't before, that my weakness is people laughing at me.

"Poopy!"

A more horrible appellation has never been heard!

Mara Dice continued calling me this in the intermittent time it took McGonagall to arrive, laughing along with her 'Puff friends while I scribbled away in my notebook trying to not pay them any mind. I just came into the classroom from my Hiding Spot in the second floor Deserted Girls' Restroom. Lucille is ironically sick in the Hospital Wing from some sexually transmitted disease ala Lupin, and so I am left to battle out the masses without a Transfiguration partner. I believe Marly Harold would take pity on a Fellow Prefect and sit next to me; if it only were not for the fact that all her friends despise me.

(Woe, but everyone seems to despise me now!)

I have been trying to escape people ever since Monday when Black decided it would be a Fantastic Idea to continue dogging my heels to class. It is Wednesday now. The only way to avoid Black is to not be in his line of sight to begin with, so I have taken to waiting in a loo before each class and walking out only when I am sure the corridors are almost clear. The second floor restroom is my favorite choice for this endeavor, because the ghost in one of the stalls seems just as depressed as I. Strangely, loos feel more like home now than ever before.

"I am talking to youuu!" said Mara.

"Go eat something!" I requested.

#2: Since Sirius Black's Friends Are Prats Of The First Water as well, and frankly have nothing better to do with their time other than make my life miserable, my rant in full from last week was not only magically intensified but magically recorded as well. Big-Head Boy Potter transfigured a Player sometime on Saturday after my shower, and now my voice can be heard by all any time they want, screaming: "'No! I'm not bloody fucking alright, you bastard! I'm on my period, and I've just found that out for fuck's sake, you dumb, dumb shite!'"

And also: "'Seriously, seriously, fucking shite. What the fuck? Merlin! _What the fuck?_ What did I do, really, to deserve this? I am a good girl, deep down. I am. I mean, sometimes, I am bad. Truly, truly awful. But more often…_aiiii!_…More often that not, I am blood fucking wonderful to Mankind…'"

You see how I may have a Problem with this. I am _persona non grata_ at Hogwarts. My only two consolations are that:

#1: McGonagall and Flitwick have stepped in, realizing from the constant crowd following me around, and from Lucille's and Camilla's and Tamara's testimonies, that I am being Harassed. They gave Black and anyone else they felt was responsible for this ruckus several detentions. This is a consolation only in the fact that while Black has Detention, I do not have to tutor him.

#2: Despite my hopes on Saturday otherwise, I am not sick.

Test Week is coming up, and as much as I do not want to, it would behoove me to begin studying. I cannot do this to the best of my ability if I am holed up without any study partners in the Hospital Wing.

"_Ransom!"_ Mara slapped her fat hand down onto my work table. I looked up at her. "I am talking to you!"

"Are you? How curious. Go away."

One would think that after my Embarrassment, I wouldn't want to be around Sirius Black ever again. That person would be correct—note my admitted avoidance of him—if it were not for the desire I have to Prove Black Wrong.

This is what I have come to learn:

Sirius Black obviously does not want a Tutor. He could not be more vocal or make his desire more obvious if he smacked me upside the head with it and put a party hat on.

But I have found in the past week that what makes The Black Hole unhappy makes me Jubilant.

Not Jubilant in a Truly Joyful way of course—things are way too bollocksed up for that to ever be the case—but Jubilant in a vengeful way. Black cannot be happy? I cannot be happy? Why should either of us get to be happy? We will all be miserable together. Cheers.

Now I know this is childish, but I just do not seem able to stop thinking in this vein.

I am too unpopular right now to get more than my closest friends' outside support. So I have to nitpick and dig at Black's ego any way I can. Any way I have left to me. Continuing to tutor Black accomplishes that.

"Ransom, are you even listening to me? I know you can hear me! Say something!"

I laughed. "Mara, what would you like me to say? You want a 'hello'?"

Mara grinned cattily. "No. But, oh! Tell us again about _Friday!" _she cooed. "Did you _really _clog up the toilets? I'm surprised you didn't pass out! I heard—."

"No," I said primly, folding my hands over my journal lest anyone feel compelled to take a peek at my writing. "No, I did not. Maybe it was someone else?" I shrugged. "Where do you get your information from, Mara? Surely you've been misinformed!"

"I don't think so!" Mara said. "I'm pretty sure I was there for it!"

"Then why do you need to ask me what happened?"

Mara giggled. "Because it's _funny,_ of course! Why on earth else?"

"Tisk, Mara."

"_What?"_

"I have nothing to say to you," I said. "You should know that by now. Go sit down. Class is starting."

"Stop acting like this isn't a Big Deal!" Mara ordered. "It is. Sirius finally paid you back for—."

"Paid me back for _tutoring_ him?" I said, incensed. I shook my head disbelievingly. "He is such a baby! He can't even come up to me, and try to work out a solution? No. Black can only wail about it to other people. He has to have people following me around all hours of the day complaining for him!"

"He's not a baby!" someone said. _"You're_ the baby! Whinging about Sirius all the time!"

"No more than he whinges about me! All day! Black doesn't have anything else to talk about, apparently!"

"_Who would?"_

"And he just sits, and whinges, and cries like a Big Baby!" I finished, and sneered. "And that's because he _is_ a Big Baby! Surprise to all that he doesn't wear a nappy!"

"Take that back!" said Mara, looming over me like an Eclipse Of The Sun, and trying to appear threatening. "You don't even know him!"

I blinked in true confusion. _"I_ don't even know him?" I said. "_I? _Mara, I? _I_ don't even know him? Oh, sister, I think you have your persons mixed up. Because I know Black better than his mama."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mara demanded, hands on Massive Hips.

"Only that I am Black's tutor," I replied. "If anyone knows how much of an arsehole Black can be than it's me."

"Class in order!" McGonagall called, appearing magically and making students scatter. "To your seats, please! Away from Miss Ransom's desk! _Away!" _ Much grumbling was heard, but Mara complied—Thank Merlin—and sat down with a Hufflepuff. Good. Good. If only she would stay with her back turned that way for eternity, we'd all be spared the sight of her. "Good," Professor McGonagall said. She looked at the empty seat next to mine. "Someone sit with Miss Ransom please! This lesson will require partners." Of course no one moved, as I am a pariah, and apparently a baby. "Do I need to repeat myself?" Professor McGonagall asked dangerously. In disbelief, I watched Dim Stuart Diggory move away from his friends and come over to my table to plop his stuff down. "Ah, Mr. Diggory! Thank you! Now: the lesson…"

Writing. Trying to ignore Dim Diggory's foot digging into mine.

Tis hard.

I have never been "in love."

I put that last part in quotes, because I think the term is so objectified that there is no true definition for it. Perhaps I should even put "true" in quotes, because truth is all in your perception?

Anyway: I have never been "in love."

And, probably as a result, it has never been that hard for me to leave a person. Take Mara Dice for instance: She is sitting over there by the window in her mammoth glory, looking all refined with her straight back and cold eyes. Looking, again, like a big frou frou spotty elephant who has just sat down for some tea. I very much dislike her.

She gives me the Bollywoggle Shivers!

Anyway, this story has been a long time in coming, but in the beginning of third year, when girls were coming back for term looking like Something A Troll Would Sick Up or Changed For The Better, I was among the Troll Option. It happened. And I am not proud of it. But it is something that I could not help. I have done some reading, and Muggles say that according to something called "genes," I was not supposed to look as awkward as I most certainly did. My older sister Blessed Bell never had an awkward day in her life, certainly. Our dear mother before her, Antiphone, modeled dress robes for Witch Weekly magazine. Our grandmother, on our father's side, married a very handsome man. All evidence pointed to genes providing for me when I went back to school in third term, but alas, they did not. A mutation occurred somewhere (perhaps my mum imbibed too much hard spirits whilst she was carrying me) and the face that had been adorable the year before now had asymmetrical features and very bad spots.

I believe Mara Dice saw someone encroaching on her ugliness back then and decided to stop being friendly with me. We used to be best of friends, Mara and I. And our animosity is the kind that only former best friends can have for one another. It is almost true hatred. Due to Mara's unmerciful meanness, I spent the majority of third term with my head down and tears in my eyes; and I made a promise to myself that no one, ever again, would humiliate me like she had done every day. Like Sirius Black did last Friday. Like other students have been trying to do to me all this week.

My resolve has worked pretty well up until now, honestly.

And of course Avoidance has helped. I just have to continue being Strong. I have to continue convincing myself that Black's Bad Attitude will just not catch; I am too much of a cold fish for any of his machinations to ever stick on me, and I have to remember that even when my blood starts to boil.

The spots I had all throughout third and fourth year have since disappeared. I have grown into my face a little bit. I have even grown rather large breasts. However, no one anywhere ever can take away the sensical person all that hassling has turned me into. Black should know that by now if he wants to mess with me. He should know that if someone screws me over, I am Out Of There.

I think I am lying in wait for just such a thing to happen. I am waiting to be betrayed. And I am sorry if this makes me mad, but it is how my life experiences have taught me to be: how Black and Mara Dice and the lot of them have all taught me to be.

If Black is surprised in any way at my reticence to fall under his Coo Coo spell of Lurve—"Coo Coo" because he apparently thinks pranks are the correct avenue of woo-age—then that is too bad, because my hate for him is probably only going to grow more intense. But over it this hatred, I will spread a veneer of Superior Attitude.

That is the plan anyway.

So to conclude: leaving a relationship of any kind is not that hard!

A person can do it. Especially if leaving means you are leaving behind a verbally abusive fuckwit. If you want happiness in that situation, you walk the fuck out, that is just how it is. You just walk the fuck out!

Problems walking the fuck out? I will help you. I will take pride in helping you. Yes, I will.

"Psst! Ransom! I've got something for you!"

"I am not listening!" I hummed, smiling at Professor McGonagall when she looked over at our work table in curiosity. Dim Diggory would not ruin my afternoon, I vowed.

"That's not right!" Dim Diggory muttered. "I know you can hear me! I've been trying to get to you since Monday to give you this."

"Aw!" I said. "Bless. Have you?"

"Stop saying 'Bless,'" ordered Diggory. "I hate it when girls say 'Bless.'"

I grinned, sticking my quill in my notebook for the mean while. I turned to look at Diggory. "Bless!" I repeated.

"Stop it!"

I sighed. "Dim…Dimothy," I said, covering up my mistake. "What is it?"

"You know it's 'Diggory'," he said.

"Right." I nodded. "Dimmory. Have you got a note for me then? This one from Lupin, too?" I reached a hand out. Diggory actually leaned away like I had some skin sickness, and gave me a look of mild disgust. "Do I have to pat you down?" I asked him. "Give me the note!"

"It's not from Lupin!" Diggory said. "It's from Black. And I can't give it to you here when you're trying to climb all over me! McGonagall will find us out!"

"But this time," I said, "this time, my goal is not what's in your pants." I paused in thought. "…Unless, of course, you have the note _in_ your pants? Did you stuff it down your knickers this morning, Diggory? Wanted to feel closer to Black, I gather? You know, all it'll take for you both to be happy is for you to tell him. He fancies you back, I promise."

"Get away from me, you crazy thing!" Diggory hissed, glancing paranoid at McGonagall, who for once in her career, seemed oblivious. "We are in a classroom! Respect your boundaries!"

"Ah, he gets it!" I said thoughtfully. "He gets it! I'll respect my boundaries when you learn to respect yours, how's that, Dimmer? Does that make any sense? Am I getting through?"

"What are you prattling about?"

I shrugged. "Only that this past week, you've been mighty unconcerned with _my _personal boundaries."

"It's not been just me!" Diggory said with a grumble. "I only do it here and at meal times. Black goes out of his way to—."

"But you're admitting it," I said. "That's one small step for man, one giant leap—."

"What?"

"Diggory," I said. "Get on with it! Give me the note so I can go back to not molesting you and dreaming about Black."

"So you do dream about him!" breathed Diggory. "I knew it!"

"Going to tell the whole school?" I said nastily.

Note from Black is as follows:

"_Raisin. Hi. Sirius Black here."_

"Christ." I rolled my eyes, but continued onward.

"_We've gotten off to a bad start, even I'll admit that! I think it would be cool to talk it out without you trying to run away from me. How about it? Half past seven Wednesday night in The Kitchens?"_

I crumpled the note up, not interested in reading further, and resumed scribbling in my journal. If Black thought he would get me back into The Kitchens in his company once more in his lifetime, he had another think coming, I'll tell you that right now.

The Kitchens?

_I mean, The Kitchens?_

Haha.

That is like asking me to transfigure my right leg into a scratching post so Black he can mark his territory on it (i.e., Completely Pointless!). I am not transfiguring my right leg. And I am certainly not transfiguring it into a scratching post so Black can leak his piss all over. My right leg is the best leg I have. I kick the strongest with it, as Black could actually attest to.

I am not going into The Kitchens.

Besides: I cannot attend Black's Little Talk anyway. I have to prep Lucille and Tamara for their Astronomy lesson later on in the evening. And after that, Black certainly has a detention to attend.

He thinks he has free time to make another lazy trip to The Kitchens and harass me?

Well, not on McGonagall's watch, Black, you do not!

Hmmph! Boys are Evil!

And I am not going to be fucked over again.

I gave Dim Diggory a surreptitious glare which he repaid in kind. At least one boy understands and accepts his poor standing with me.

This preoccupation with Black is only because he is just so Goddamned Good-Looking. Every time I see him, I just…I just feel like losing myself. But it cannot continue to happen, because one thing, and we've been over this before, I have learned is that emotion ruins a person. You want to be smart? Emotionis not smart. Emotion is Completely, Dumbfuck Stupid. Emotion is a Gryffindor trait.

(Grin!!)

Aha, probably why Black needs so much help getting along with people he considers to be his lesser? Because he is chock full of emotion and just truly does not know how to act?

Also, another bad thing about Black we know: he is not aware of other people's feelings at all. Black comes in like a Dandy—with the preceding horns blaring—and Strikes His Pose, expecting everybody to love him; and really, not much can be done for him to remedy his madness. It has been going on for too long, and people have just learned to accept his failings and live with their disappointment.

Well, here is some news: I am not living with mine.

Black may want what he wants and if other people don't want the same thing, then well, Dire Things To Them, and we'll show them, they'll be sorry (!), but what I want is so much stronger, so much more righteous than Black's desire, that I feel in my bones Black is going to get his comeuppance soon.

Shite, McGonagall is looking over! Have To Halt.

"Miss _Ransom!"_

"Sorry! Sorry!" Even though I had been very careful with hiding it—and McGonagall couldn't have possibly seen—I scrambled to put my journal in my thick Transfiguration Grade Six text so I would not be found out completely. "Putting it away," I informed the Professor gravely.

"Putting _what_ away?" demanded McGonagall, beady black eyes narrowing.

"My, uh, my book," I stuttered, uncomfortable with all this pressure. "I, uh, had it open to the previous chapter, and it _won't happen again, promise, professor."_

"What are you _on _about?" The class was laughing and McGonagall was looking to get more suspicious.

"Uh…"

_"Yes?"_

Time to wrap it up, Evelyn! "Merlin. That is…well, I know how you want your kids to stay ahead," I answered her. "It's only right, obviously. Can't have them reviewing stuff they should already know, professor!"

McGonagall grumbled. "Pay attention from now on, Miss Ransom," she said, apparently sick of talking to me and going back to finally looking at the board behind her. McGonagall addressed the classroom as a whole, "This is a very important lesson. _Hippogriffs!"_ McGonagall said, with sniffling emphasis. "It will be on your head next week if you can't turn your quill into one, mark my words!"

_"Yes, ma'am,"_ I nodded, in the mien of a soldier saluting her commander. "I'll work on that."

"Work on paying attention?" she wondered, now sounding very annoyed. _"I would hope so, Miss Ransom!"_

"Yes, ma'am!" I repeated, giving my seatmate a responding, remonstrative kick in the ankle. Dim Diggory had _pinched_ me. _Merlin,_ boys were so annoying!

Fishing journal out and getting back to essay on love:

Cannot think of anything good anymore. I have written far too much as is. Decided I might perhaps continue it later. As its only purpose is for my own amusement and not for class, its completion is not completely vital.

Hippogriffs are important, as we know.

_Though._

Thought!

Perhaps Professor Flitwick would consider this essay good extra credit work on our Contemplative Charms homework due Friday. Something to look into.

_The Great Hall._

"…Evie?! Evie?!_"_

"Yes, what _is_ it Camilla?" I asked a little snappishly. My day had been Ruined by McGonagall's class. "I am sitting right next to you. You don't have to talk so loud."

Camilla pouted her unnaturally large lips and blinked at me. Two seats away, Distracted Michael Carrington from 5th year fell out of his seat from trying to look over; Carrington probably has daily visions of Camilla using said lips on a very important and sensitive piece of his anatomy, and this is quite sad ; he is only fifteen, and Camilla doesn't really notice him noticing her. "Have you been listening to us at all?"

I did not understand what Camilla was asking me. It had not been listening to anyone all week. Of course I had not been listening to them; it had to have been obvious. "No," I said. "You'll have to repeat it."

Lucille snapped. "What is _wrong_ with you?" she said. "You've been out of it all day! I know Black has been a nuisance, but—."

"Lucy," I said calmly, now calm. Now calm. "This is the first meal I am actually eating more than just two bites in. Do you really want to ruin my appetite with talk of Black? Do you really?"

Lucille thought about it. "Well…"

I nodded. "Right. So, if you please, repeat what you were saying before I zoned out, and then leave me to my Dinner." I gave a Royal Beckon. "If you please, Lucille."

"Right, well…"

"If you please!" I said a third time.

"Remus wants to do an Intervention!" Lucille finally informed me. "He thinks it'll solve everything. Camilla, Tammy, and I have been talking about it, and we all agree we should do it."

"What do you mean by an 'Intervention'?" I asked, curious in a displaced way. My friends wanted to do an "Intervention" with Black and I? Who _didn't _want to do an "Intervention" with Black and I? I would love to Call Black To Trial. "Do you mean to Mediate?" I said. "Or to actually Intervene?"

"We mean to Intervene!" replied Lucille at once. "We think it's past due for it. Black is getting out of control."

"He invited me on another Kitchen Trip!" I confided. "He's absolutely mad! Bonkers! I don't know how he keeps coming up with this shite!"

"Are you going?" asked Camilla, interested.

I shook my head. "Of course I'm not going! Why would I go? The last time I went into that room with him Black stole my wand, and had The Elves lace my tea with an Expungent! Why would I ever go back in there if I could prevent it?"

"Maybe it'll be different this time," suggested Camilla optimistically.

"Ha!" I said. "And maybe I'll wake up Queen Of The Fairies!"

"Nothing's impossible," Lucille commented. "You could wake up Que—."

I interrupted her, "I would _love_ to wake up as Queen Of The Fairies, Luce. Would give me all sorts of extra powers. I would _love _to turn men's heads into arses. Would absolutely make my fucking day."

"You have your characters wrong," said Lucille. "Oberon transformed Nick Bottom's head, not Titiana."

"I said I would love to turn men's heads into arses!" I retorted snobbishly. "Who said anything about being Titiana?"

"Oh, Evelyn!" Lucille heaved a Great, Put-Upon Sigh. "You're a lost one, you are."

I took a sip of water. "No more so than anyone else."


	16. Chapter 16

_Hallway Outside Ancient Runes._

Black cornered me outside Ancient Runes the next morning before I could go to a restroom. He was looking particularly annoyed, but that could just be the set of his face now.

Merlin knows we both dislike each other. One look from Black makes me bleed out of two orifices.

"Why didn't you come to The Kitchens last night?" Black asked without preamble, oozing intimidation. "I waited for you!"

"That's really too bad," I said. "I am really sorry to hear that."

"Are you?"

"Yes," I said. "Should I not be?"

"I don't think you're being sincere!" Black returned, glaring. "I taste a bit of deception in the air." He sniffed. "It smells foul!"

"Well, it's not me, surely!" Looking around the empty corridor, I suggested, "If we're the only two people in the corridor, and it's not me, Black…_Merlin,_ I wonder who it is? Could it be you? Is it you? Are you being deceptive, Black?"

Black sighed. "You're so annoying! Why are you always so annoying? I don't remember you being this annoying."

I shrugged. "I just can't seem to stop, sorry. You must bring out the Worst in me. Maybe it'd be best if we never talked again?"

"Oho!" Black smirked. "But then you couldn't tutor me!"

I paused, thinking this over. "This is true. How will we work around the Not-Talking Thing, do you think? I think I can survive just as long as only one of us talks, Black. Points go to you, if you know who I think that person should be."

"Me?" Black asked. "Is it me?"

I shook my head sorrowfully. "Oh, he's wrong! How awful! How awful to be wrong all the time!"

Black stared at me. "And you're never wrong, Raisin? I think you're pretty wrong about me. I think you're pretty wrong about your attitude towards me."

"If I have an attitude towards you, Black" I said, "it is only because you keep on getting shirty with me."

Black stopped walking. _"I_ keep on getting shirty with _you?"_

I snarled, turning around. "Of course!"

Black held up his hands in a gesture of placation and peace. "Whoa there, baby, didn't know you cared! Stand down!"

Recovered, I sniffed at him. "I don't! I _don't_ care. I actually don't care very much. Where you would get that I care—."

"So if I fail History," Black said, considering this, "you wouldn't care? Really?"

"That's different," I said. "I won't let you fail."

Black grinned. Reaching out a finger, he poked me in the ribs. "All the more reason to try harder at failing, then, isn't it, Raisin?" he cooed. "Keep you around me always."

"I don't think having me around always is what you want," I tentatively told Black, not liking this demonstrative side at all. "Like you said before, I can be annoying."

Black shrugged. "Not if you don't talk. When you don't open your gob, you're pretty cute sometimes."

"Uh, thank you?" I said. "That's actually very sweet."

"Really?"

"Yes. I love hearing that there are constituents to my being attractive to you. What else is there? I can't be fat, certainly…" I checked that off with a finger in the air. "There's no talking…"

"You already lose," Black muttered.

"What's that?" I asked, Carefully Serene. "Do you want to repeat that for me?"

"No," Black replied. "I don't."'

"That's what I thought."

At The Stairs, my worst nightmare appeared in the form of Potter, Lupin, and Pettigrew meeting our little group. After having decided that escape was useless due to Black Holding Onto My Arm, I walked to Advanced Potions with most of The Gryffindor 7th year Boys at my side. No one else felt the need to join us, and for that I suppose I should feel thankful. Mara Dice gave me an envious stare when we passed her by on the first floor corridor, and I couldn't help feeling a little lighter. Especially after Lupin won back some of my esteem by frowning at her. Anyone else who dared to look at me, Black stared down.

All in all, it was not an unpleasant walk, if you take into consideration that it prepared my brain for doing well in Potions today. Kind of like a morning crossword, as it were.

"Lucille," I greeted, coming upon her standing outside Slughorn's door; relieved that she had waited for me to enter. Other students, seeing the small mob behind me, and Black's Black Stare, decided it might be proactive to scatter. Another door could be reached somewhere, certainly. "How was Care of Magical Creatures?"

Lucille shrugged, not paying me any attention whatsoever. I followed her calf-eyed gaze to Pervy Lupin, who was smiling back with equal warmth.

"Oh, ew!" I muttered, sharing my first ever commiserating glance with Potter. "Jesus. Get a room, why don't you."

"Quite!"

"Oh, we will," said Lucille faintly. "…In due time."

"_Disgusting!"_

"Nice," said Black, looking on. "Dawzy, I take back every bad thing I said about you! You're a fine girl. When is the bedding?"

Seeing that Lupin wasn't opening his mouth to say much of anything, I felt compelled to defend my friend. "You might want to start with getting her name correct, dumbarse. Lucille's not one of your bosom mates where you can just give her stupid nicknames. She doesn't moon people like your pervy friend or poke at people indiscriminately with her special stick." I nodded my head at Lupin and Potter. "How are you doing today, Remus, by the way? I find it extraordinary that you're not defending your lady-love right now. Trouble in paradise, is it?"

Lucille was scandalized. _"Evelyn! _Lay off!"

"I am curious!'" I said. "Your boyfriend has not once put Black in his place for insulting you."

"Black hasn't insulted me!" replied Lucille. "He's just being Black!"

"That is the worst excuse for misbehavior I have ever heard!" I said. "'He's just being _Black!'_ Well, You-Know-Who is just being You-Know-Who when he kills Muggles and Muggle-borns, but do we all think he's in the right and join up with him? _No!_ Or, I would certainly hope we don't!"

Potterstepped in, again reminding me why nobody had any real respect for him. "You do need to lay off!" he said. "No wonder no one likes you if this is the Grand Snit you're always in!" Potter rolled his eyes. "Just like Evans! You _can't_ go around without a stick up your ar—!"

"Thank you," I interrupted him. "That means so much! I'll be sure to tell _Evans_ how much of a _wanker_ you are."

"Evelyn!" Lucille said, sounding horrified by my lack of tact. "What is_ wrong_ with you this morning?" Lucille turned to address the boys. "I'm sorry. She's been acting so strange all week!" She went back to gazing at Lupin, who appeared slightly uncomfortable by such an obvious display of love.

"No worries!" said Black. "I'm sure it's just been her monthlies."

"What? You did not just say that. You did not just say that." I was even more offended by Black's comment, because it was true. This was the period that would just not go away. "Lucy," I turned to her, "he did not just say that."

"I think he did," squeaked Peter Pettigrew helpfully.

I stared at Pettigrew. "Thank you. See, my ears were blocked up for a moment and—."

"Class!" yelled Lucille, finally breaking away from Lupin-land. "Evelyn and I have class right now. Sorry, boys, but we'll see you later."

"We should be going as well," agreed Lupin, starting to move.

"You go on, then," said Black, sounding spiteful. "If you want to be a traitor then we won't miss you, will we, Prongs?"

Potter shook his head. "Nope!"

Lupin looked torn between his desire to not be made late to class and his desire to keep his friends happy with him. I didn't sympathize. He obviously wasn't strong enough to man-up and cut the cord. Lucille made Lupin's decision for him by waving goodbye. "Remus," she said.

"Lucille."

"No farewell kiss for Moony?" Black asked, watching Lupin walk away. "What a bad girlfriend you are! And Raisin!" I lifted my eyes to Black in horror, hoping he was not about to suggest what was obviously coming. "What about me? What about this cheek?" Black pointed, leaning in. "It's lonely here, it is, without any lips to kiss it. Doesn't it deserve something as well?"

"You're a dumbarse," I said. "You want me to kiss you?" Black nodded enthusiastically. "I…_would be delighted."_

"Really?"

I took out my wand and whispered a modified spell to make my lips look glossy. "I've just lathered them with saliva from Severus Snape's mouth." I informed them, and puckered up for effect. "I'm ready. Kissy, kissy, Black!"

"That's_ nasty!" _said Potter.

"I don't believe you." However, Black's hands were shaking with a dread he couldn't hide. "How would you get Snivellus's saliva anyway? You didn't…k-k…ki…"

I helped him out. "Kiss? Black, do you really want to take the chance that I didn't? I do sometimes study with Severus for Potions. It gets intense sometimes, under all those fumes. Do you really want to take the chance that he and I haven't taken advantage of our alone-ness…like you and I have?"

"Don't do it, Padfoot!" Potter whispered. "You don't know where she's been!"

"I think she might be _lying!"_ responded Black just as quietly. I rolled my eyes. Did the Ponces think the rest of us couldn't hear them? I glanced at Lucille; she was Back In Form with the removal of Lupin and looked just as dumbfounded. "I don't know what to do."

"Don't do it!" Potter said again. "Wait for another time."

"Okay," said Black. "Okay."

"Merlin," I breathed. "He _is_ stupid. Listen, Black—."

Black pointed a finger at me. "This isn't over, Raisin! I still expect to see you at Lunchtime."

"Why would I let myself be seen by you?" I asked in curiosity. "All signs point to the fact that we don't get along. Why would I subject myself to more of your terror if I could prevent it?"

"Because you can't seem to stop yourself?" Black said.

I sighed. "Go to class. And take Potter with you. He looks ready to start dueling." I glanced at the man in question. "Do you want a duel, Potter? I'll give you a duel if you really want one. Just make sure it's what you _really _want."

Potter narrowed his eyes at me. "Oh, I want!"

Lucille, in a rare showing of spine from all that I've seen of her this past week, clapped her hands loudly, and declared, "We _should_ be getting to class, Evelyn!"

"Class isn't important," Potter muttered, still glaring at me. "What's important is showing this little miss—."

"Prongs, we can hold off on it until Lunch, can't we?" Black said, apparently now Decided. "We'll save it up. Maybe we'll throw some food at her!"

"I am right here!" I said, annoyed. "You don't have to talk over me. If you want to threaten me with a food fight, Black, then by all means, threaten me with a food fight. But look me in the face and be a man about it."

"You would know all about being a man, I presume?" said Black. "You being as big as one."

Pretending to be unfazed, I said, "As big as one what, Black? A man? How big of a man are we talking here? Six foot?" I raised a hand to demonstrate. "Five eleven? Does this man have boobs?"

"Maybe he's talking about a tranny," Lucille wondered.

I gasped. "Are you calling me a _tranny, _Black?" I demanded. When Black looked confused, I said, "You don't know what a Tranny is? How is that possible?"

"'Tranny' is a Muggle term," Lucille said. "It's not surprising that he doesn't know it."

"Oh."

Before anything more could be said, Lucille and I rushed through the Dungeon Door and closed it behind us. There would be time enough to laugh at Black later on.

_Professor Flitwick's Office._

I don't know how I am going to do this! It's Saturday. 0920. My parents are supposed to be here in about ten minutes to discuss Black. I have Quidditch Try-Outs in one hour.

I don't know how I am going to do this.

If my mum sees me even glancing out a window while she's trying to lecture me about The Dangers Of Boys and Keeping A Straight Head, she's going to know something is up.

Shite. Merlin, and Christ, and Jesus In A Handbasket!

(Edit: According to Lucille, Christ and Jesus are one and the same. Who knew?)

I am so nervous right now that my throat is seizing up. I feel like I have swallowed a whale. I am such a dumbarse. Who schedules a meeting with their parents during Quidditch Try-Outs? Who?

The past day and a half has basically traveled on the same wave of the past week. After Potions on Thursday, Black did indeed meet me outside my classroom and walked Lucille and I to Lunch. At Lunch, Black then proceeded to sit his arse down in Camilla's seat, and—not throw food at me, but—dogmatically stack up my plate with roast beef sandwiches. Apparently, my rapid loss of weight has been noted; but since everything in the world must have its set place, my weight among them, I am not allowed to be thin.

No. I have to eat and eat until I am back to looking healthy, says Black.

Well,_ Pah,_ is what I say to that.

Pah!

Black is not my mum! He cannot continue to boss me around the way he's been doing and expect that I will take it lying down, with a smile on my face.

Black wants me to look healthy? Black should stop trying to ruin my life, is what he should do. It's been causing all this extra stress.

"Oh, it's my Bunny!"

"Mummy," I murmured mournfully, coming into Professor Flitwick's Office and staring at my parents. Not sure if I was happy or unhappy that they were early and I was the one who was late, I didn't move an inch. "Papa," I greeted. "How are you doing?"

"Oh, just fine! Just fine, darling! Mummy missed her Bunny so much!" My mum ran up to me and wrapped me up in her thin arms, squeezing me like I was about to get away.

Perhaps I was? One can never be sure with overly affectionate mothers.

I glanced at Professor Flitwick and winced when I caught him smiling at me. I had prepared for it, but it was still a bit embarrassing to know my Head Of House was witnessing such a gross display of familial affection. "How are your studies going?" my mum asked.

"_Mu-Mummy!" _I choked—my throat closing up with dread. The last thing I wanted right now was a discussion on my studies. That would just provoke all the new emotions! "A l-little air, please!"

My mum reluctantly released me, and I tried to back up discretely. "Oh! _Darling!_ Mummy's sorry, she is! I just haven't seen you in weeks!" She reached out a hand and patted down my hair. "You look so beautiful! Doesn't our Bunny look Beautiful, Evelyn? Haven't her spots cleared up?"

Evelyn Ransom, my father and namesake—yes, his mama stole a name!—stepped up. "Bunny does look Gorgeous!" he agreed. "But let her come to me for a minute, Antiphone! Let her hug her Papa!" My father opened his arms up wide.

My mum tsked. "I let her go a long time ago, Evelyn!" she said, speaking straight from her arse now. _"Look at her!" _Everyone looked at me. "She wants nothing to do with her parents now, does she? Look at her just standing there, blank-staring! I don't even know why we are here if she can't accept a little affection!"

Actually a little excited to be near my father if it meant that I was safe from another disastrous embrace from my mum, I sped over. "Papa!" I said. "Thank you for coming."

My father gave me one gentleman-like pat on the back and stepped down. I nodded approvingly. That was how a proper hug was done. "Darling, what's this I hear about a boy humiliating you?" I frowned.

"Uh."

"No boy can humiliate a Ransom girl!" my father continued, "It's just not done! We've already contacted his parents, of course—."

"What?" I said. 'You already contact—."

"_Upstarts!" _my mother chimed in. _"Filthy Followers!"_

"Mother!"

"Now, Antiphone, calm yourself!" said my father. "We have all morning to discuss this." I glanced at Professor Flitwick, hoping he could speak up and get us started. We did not have all morning, and my parents surely had to realize sometime soon that my Head Of House was a busy man, he was, and couldn't be bothered with pandering to parents all day; he had Quidditch Try-Outs to oversee!

"Quite right! Quite right!" said Flitwick, complying at last. "Best get on with it! I do have an appointment in an hour, so…"

"Oh!" said my mother in some surprise. "I thought we had you all day! I was looking forward to visiting with both of my children! Well, my husband and I will try not to keep you overlong, I suppose we can check in with the sitter. But we do need to hash out this mess, don't we? I can't have my daughter being harassed in a place she's supposed to feel safe in."

"No," said my father. "We absolutely cannot have that!"

"Right," I said nervously. I fidgeted. If it only weren't for the timing, my parents' premature owling of the Blacks aside, I would still feel confident that this could all work out. "Well…"

"Shall we not all sit down?" Flitwick asked jovially. "No reason to be standing about like this!" Professor Flitwick waved his wand, and the seats that were originally by his desk were now situated in a semi-circle in the middle of the room. My mum had to jump out of the way to avoid smashing into one.

"Oh!"

"Looks Very Nice!" my father approved.

_The Quidditch Pitch._

Doing this on the sly. The Meeting ended about two minutes ago. Flitwick left earlier than I did, because he needed the extra time to move his tiny legs down to The Pitch. I, on the other hand, had to shake my parents off by saying that I was late to a Prefects' Meeting, since they of course were unaware that I had to attend Try-Outs as well.

"But on a Saturday?" my mum had asked me. "Why would they have a meeting on a Saturday?"

"Fell deeds do not wait for the week day!" I had responded, already moving out the door and speed-walking down the corridor to The Stairs. "Bye mum! Bye papa! See you at Dinner!"

My parents have decided to stay for The Evening Meal. Obviously they felt they didn't get enough time with me. I am not looking forward to tonight, I can tell you (well, not really).

It astounds me, but I think I forgot how cloying my mum can be. Living at Hogwarts for the last five years and running, I think sometime a while ago, I stopped considering our manor by Ouse to be Home, and instead started considering Hogwarts. It's just so cozy here in the castle sometimes that I get lulled into a false sense of security.

However, my parents were right when they said that no child should be harassed in a place she's supposed to feel safe in. That's the very opposite definition of feeling safe. I understand my mum getting her back up in a snit over that. I would probably feel the same way if I had a daughter. But to contact Black's parents!

Without even notifying me!

My mum most correctly put me in my place for complaining—I did, in effect, hand over the situation to my parents when I sent them that owl—but it still would have been nice to have been informed that my days were numbered. I wasn't at all positive that I wanted to involve Black's parents in this to begin with.

But then I think, how could I not have? Was I just expecting, like a fool, that my parents would take this lying down?

No! I knew that my parents, my mum especially, would feel obligated to stand up for my rights as a student, because they love me. I knew that. And so I sent the letter, because I wanted Black to pay. But I guess I didn't really think about it. I of course didn't think about the timing of it, and I of course didn't think about how this would affect my rapidly dropping social standing here at Hogwarts. Black is going to see my parents sitting up at The Head Table at Dinner tonight, and Know Something Is Up.

I am in deep, deep shite. Oh, Merlin.

What's more is I just thought of the Fun Apollon is going to have when he realizes our parents don't know the complete story. They don't know that my nickname is "Poopy" for instance, and they certainly don't know that I am going to continue tutoring Black.

I will just have to find some way to distract them that is all. Polly having a girlfriend should do it. Our father thinks his son is an Asexual.

I had better fly well today! If I cock it up and don't make The Team, then everything will just have no point anymore. No light. Quidditch Try-Outs were my one shining beacon all week, and if I am going to ruin it by letting thoughts of Black and my parents and Polly get to me while I should be concentrating on flying my best, then I should just not attend at all, I think. Even if everyone is going to be staring and taking the mickey, I don't care. I know they will, and I have to Not Care. I have to do my best. Mara is Trying-Out, too, and I have to put her in her place at least this once.

"Ransom!" Heathcote-of-the-shining-dark-hair greeted, making me want to swoon because he remembered my name, even though I was a fellow Prefect and had meetings with him twice a week. "I didn't know you were trying out! Good on you!"

"Th-thanks," I stuttered, uncomfortably staring into his large black eyes. Rumor had it Heathcote was the lead-singer of some sexy rock band; obviously this only increased his appeal. "Uh, there's a lot of people here. I didn't think there would be so many people."

"Only one spot!" Heathcote said joyfully, looking around. I looked around with him. One spot. Too many people. "A good crop this year, too! I think I'm going to see some fantastic flying!"

"I hope you will," I said. "From me."

"Oh!" said Heathcote. "Think you got what it takes, do you? Well, I guess we'll see."

"Yes, I guess you will."

Heathcote smiled rather hugely and gestured me over to The Stands. Being a bit dumbfounded that such an attractive boy was being so nice to me after listening to a recording of my monster crap on tape, it took me a while to get my legs moving properly. "Why don't you sit down with the rest of the hopefuls?" he suggested. "Only waiting on Professor Flitwick now!"

"He hasn't made it yet?" I said in surprise. "I just saw him running down."

Heathcote shrugged. "Maybe he got held back. He told me yesterday that he might be a bit late due to a meeting he had with a student's parents."

I nodded, but couldn't control my blush. "'Tis possible."

"Ah!" said Heathcote. "There the man is now!"

"Sorry! Sorry, my dears!" Professor Flitwick came racing onto The Pitch like a mouse escaping predators. "Sorry, I'm late! Oh, Evelyn, dear," he addressed me, "glad you made it! I hoped you would."

"Me too," I said. "Are you alright, sir? You look a little pale."

"Just fine!" Professor Flitwick said. "Just fine! Had a little run in with Mrs. Norris that's all. Smelled the ham I had this morning, I daresay!"

"I'm sorry."

"Quite alright! Not your fault at all, dear! Now!" Professor Flitwick turned to Heathcote in surprise. "Why are we not up in the air yet? I told you not to wait on me!"

"We have The Pitch all day, sir."

"Oh, well, yes, that is nice, isn't it?"

Two hours later, we were down to five hopefuls. In a rare bid of Divine Mastermind, Mara had been eliminated in the first round. I liked to think she was too heavy to allow her broom to remain upright in an air-stream, but it could just be that she is Absolutely Horrible At Quidditch. On her Walk-Of-Shame off The Pitch and onto The Stands, she and I exchanged sneers. We were in accord. I would do my best, while Mara would do her best to prevent me from doing my best.

"Poopy! Poopy girl!"

She got her friends to yell out at me and it was very hard to block everything out.

"Don't smash, Poopy!"

"Ohhh, that looked right rough, it did, my friend! Are you sure you're meant to be up there with the rest of them? Maybe you should quit while you're just only a tad humiliated!"

"You don't _belong,_ Poopy!"

"Gooooooo, Poopy! Look at her fly! Look at Poopy fly!" That last one had come from Camilla, and not one of Mara's friends. Camilla, Ah, Camilla. Sweet Girl that she is. She doesn't realize that "Poopy" sounds appalling even as pet name. "She can fly, she can!" Camilla yelled, waving my favorite stuffed bear, Mr. Edward, up for all to see. "Oh, yes she can! Look! Poopy is flying now, you mean-nosed bints!"

Cam was allowed in The Stands only because she had an In with her boyfriend, who was one of our Beaters.

At last, I could say that Alexander Riktus was useful!

Realizing I should probably turn back to the game, I did just that. "You're going to drop!" 6th year James Mason told me, flying into my face and smirking at me. "You're going to drop like a fly!"

"…You're going to drop!" I warned him belatedly, watching as a Bludger smacked him upside the head. Mason's descent was slowed by Professor Flitwick.

"That's one down!" Heathcote called. "You lot, pay attention! Quidditch is a rough game! I want no one unprepared!"

Twenty seconds later, Patrick Carrington spectacularly fumbled two consecutive passes sent by me and was out of the game as well.

"Two down!" said Heathcote.

"Poopy!" yelled Mara. "You're going to _droppppp!"_

"Shut up!" I murmured, trying to concentrate on passing off the Quaffle again. "Shut up!"

"Pooooopy!"

"That's enough!" Professor Flitwick squeaked, blowing his whistle, and sounding enraged by the amount of attention I was getting.

All play stopped. From The Stands, I spied Mara's fat form jiggling as she stood up and most likely glared at me for Ruining Her Day and getting her in trouble with the professor. Though, how she figures it's my fault is an argument I'd like to hear. "If you can't be respectful, then move off The Pitch!" Flitwick ordered.

"…Sorry, Professor."

"Will you be silent?" Flitwick demanded of Mara.

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Professor Flitwick gestured to Heathcote to resume play. With Mara and her stupid 5th year friends finally silent, I was able to channel my Rage into a different outlet: The Outlet Of Kicking Arse.

(Edit: Really, Evelyn? _Really?_ Can't we come up with anything better? Outlet Of Kicking Arse? I mean, come on.)

I wasn't the best Chaser ever, certainly. But I was the one who wanted the spot most. I was the only one out there willing to Will Myself Onto The Team. I was the one who made the least mistakes. A half hour later, I was the one who was the New Chaser.

Now only if everything else in my life would turn out just as nice.


	17. Chapter 17

_Side Door To The Great Hall._

"Have you reviewed that potion with Professor Slughorn?" my mum asked me, smoothing out my robes and giving me a Gimlet Stare. We were in the Retiring Room off The Great Hall getting ready to make a bit of an entrance. It is unfortunate, but apparently eating with the faculty is one of the Traditions when parents visit a child at Hogwarts. "So lovely!" she cooed, then paused. "…You need to make sure that everything is set, you understand? Otherwise I am not certain you'll do as well as you hoped. Make sure everything is alright with that partner of yours. Snape, isn't it?"

"Yes, mama," I grumbled, trying to pay attention to the muffled voices coming from the slit through the door, and only half hearing my mum speak. I could just imagine Lucille craning her neck over Camilla's head to try and see us. "His name is Severus. He's the top of his class in his year. We're almost finished. We just have to show it to the professor. He'll like it, promise."

"Oh, have you made an appointment? You're about halfway done with the potion, I take it?" I nodded. "How much longer do you have? Two weeks?"

"About that, yes."

My mother finally stepped back. "You don't know the exact time?" she asked. "You have everything under control, don't you? I don't need to call in your sister Bella, do I? Because I'd be happy to. You know how excellent at Potions she is. She'd be sure to give you that step up you need."

Knowing that I absolutely did not want my older sister involved in a parent's scheme to patronize, I replied, "No, mum. You don't need to call Bella in. She's probably very busy as it is." Pease don't continue talking, I begged. Just zip it for once in your life.

"Not too busy for her little sister!" My mum smiled, showing her incisors. "But, good! I do hate to bother her so much! With her new baby and everything she _is_ a very busy girl." I rolled my eyes. A new baby didn't stop my mum from lecturing me! Oh, no. "Now, where is that lazy father of yours? I swore he was just here! That man!"

I laughed. "They like to test the waters on occasion by running away," I said. "Keeps things exciting." When my mother gave me a quelling look, I decided it was past time to start eating. "Papa is trying to have a talk with Polly. He said it might take a while."

"Oh, that's right. That's right. Polly has a girlfriend, is that correct? A little miss named Samantha?"

I shrugged, feeling impish. "First I've heard of it, frankly. I only know of one Samantha among the Ravenclaw second years and she certainly would never go out with him."

"Evelyn!"

"Sorry," I said, smirking on the inside. Apollon had thought that I could be taken down? Well, little boy was wrong! "It's just that Polly's a bit of a hard case," I explained. "He's a bit antisocial."

"Like you were?" my mum parried. "Stop talking badly about your brother! Polly is a dear, dear boy! You know he has trouble relating to people—he's so smart—and you just compound it. I won't have you alienating him."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Won't happen again! It's just sometimes he—."

"I am sure tonight it won't!"

The next moment, my father stuck his head in through the open door to the side room and beckoned us. "All ready?" he asked. "Good." He placed a hand on Polly's shoulder and squeezed. Polly winced.

I grinned. "Good talk then?"

My father ignored this. "Come on! Your Headmaster has just given his Speech. We can eat now."

"Ah," I said. "Lovely! Agony approaches!"

"What's that, darling?" asked my mum. "Be nice now."

"I'm always nice," I muttered. "And it's always my Downfall."

Walking into The Great Hall beside my parents and younger brother, Apollon, I made a point to not look at any faces for very long. This was the worst sort of spectacle, this was. I know I am being stared at. Across the room, Black perked up in his seat and fluttered his fingers at me.

"Ah, the Ransoms!" Headmaster Dumbledore greeted my parents and gestured them into seats at the end of The Head Table next to Flitwick. "Miss Ransom, Mr. Ransom, why don't you two go sit down with The Ravenclaws?"

"Yes, Professor," Apollon and I chimed.

"Excellent! Off you go!"

Walking quickly to escape Apollon's pinch, I slipped in next to Camilla.

"'_Well?"_ said Lucille. "How did it go?"

"Horrible. It was horrible. The most embarrassing talk possible. How else did you expect it to go?"

"Certainly it wasn't that bad," said Camilla worryingly, taking it upon herself to serve me some potatoes. I tried to decline and move my plate away, but Camilla would not be cowed. "They can't possibly know everything."

I gave Cam a glance filled with promise.

She gasped, misinterpreting it. "They didn't find out about_ Quidditch?" _she said.

"Of course not!" I said. "They're way too slow for that. But it was still horrible. They could still find out."

"Best not let your brother hear that!" advised Lucille, nodding down The Table ten faces. We all glanced in Apollon's direction. Truth be told he actually was sitting with a female. Hmmm. I had just been trying a joke at his expense. "He'll use it against you."

"They'll have to find out eventually, I guess," I responded philosophically. "Though, you're right, Lucy, I would prefer it if it weren't tonight." I shivered suddenly. "It's cold in here! I think Merlin's sending me a Wave Of Foreboding! Need to watch out!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Lucille snapped. "Do you have to see them off after Dinner?"

Camilla hummed triumphantly when I started cutting into my potatoes. "My parents?" Lucille nodded. "Unfortunately. They'll want to kiss me goodbye."

"Seriously though!" said Lucille. "Evelyn, I'd watch what you say about them. Some of us would kill to get as much attention as you do!"

Knowing this to be wise advice, I still muttered, "Attention's not everything, Lucy. Look what it's gotten me."

"Oh, yes!" Lucille cried, sarcastic. I stared at her. "You're so unfortunate! Two parents who give you so much love that you're actually sick of it! How awful it must be! How incredibly terribly awful!"

"Shut up," I said. "You have it all wrong. You know it's not quite like that."

"All I'm saying," Lucille shrugged, "is this: be thankful for what you have. One day it might not be there."

"Aren't we a Miss Happy-Pants this evening? What brings this on?"

"Remus told me some stuff."

"Ah," I said, with heat. "About Black, I imagine."

Lucille glared at me. _"Yes."_

"What Pearls did Beautiful Remus have to offer you? Finally thinking for himself now, is he? Grand. Good for him."

"I'm not telling you now!" said Lucille. "Not when you're all snitty from your mum! You'll have to wait for us to get back to our dorm room."

"How convenient you are. What a gal!"

"Thank you."

Tamara and Camilla had been watching our by-play like this was usual course. And, of course it was. Lucille and I always bickered. "Congratulations on making the team, Evie!" Tamara told me, changing the subject. She probably hadn't sensed any tension however. Tamara probably had just been waiting a while to congratulate me and could no longer hold it back. "We're proud of you!"

Touched, I put a hand to my heart. Lucille rolled her eyes. "Thank you. Your support means a lot."

Always one for cheer, Tamara smiled. "You're welcome!"

After Dinner, Black joined my brother and me in a walk up to our parents.

"Oh, Christ."

Apollon sneered. "Why is a _Gryffindor_ walking with us?"

"He can't stay away," I said. "He's like my stalker. Don't pay him any mind. Just keep walking, Polly."

"I don't know what you think this is!" snarled Black, grabbing onto my arm and physically dragging me when my legs looked to have locked. Polly looked on curiously. "But it better not be what I think this is."

"Disappointed that nothing's going to plan?" I asked. "Polly, I'll meet you in a minute, alright?"

"Oh no," said my brother. "This looks _quite_interesting. I think I'll stay!"

"And I think I'll turn your nubbins into cotton balls!"

Polly snorted. "As if you could with mum and dad looking on!"

I started advancing. "You—."

"_Polly!" _Black intervened. "Why don't you be a good boy, and go on up now, alright? Raisin and I need to have a little discussion."

"Do you like her?" said Polly loudly, apparently wanting to know. "You could do a lot better, you know. That bird I saw you with last week for instance."

"Merlin!" I breathed. "Polly, you're going to die. Just come closer and I'll get it done. Do you hear me? I am going to kill you."

"Mum won't let that happen!" Polly told me.

"Well, you better run to her!" I advised. "You don't know how far I'll go unless you take another step closer. Do we really want to chance this? You're such a small boy. Much smaller than me. Do we really want to chance this?"

"Listen to your sister," Black said to my brother with a smirk. "Wise words!"

Polly looked over his shoulder at our parents beckoning to us. "They're looking at you anyway, Evelyn! You're going to be sorry!"

"Well, I am sorry!" I said, "I am sorry I have such a dumbarse for a little brother. But you're messing with the wrong girl at the wrong moment."

With one last sneer, Apollon walked away.

"You_ will_ be sorry!" Black promised me in a whisper once my brother was out of ear shot. "Just wait! I suppose we should smile now, yes? Your mum is looking quite twitchy. Doesn't like strange boys touching her daughter it seems. How sweet."

"Only because she smells a rat," I replied, trying to out-walk him. "Why are you holding onto my arm, Black? Let go." I tried to discretely shake him, but holds on strong, as we know.

"That's impossible," he murmured. "Both are impossible."

"What?"

"Yes. For one: if I let you go then you'll walk away." I rolled my eyes. Genius, this one was. "And two: Pettigrew is the rat, not me."

"What are you talking about? Have you been into the Muggle glue again?" I put a hand to Black's forehead. "You do feel feverish!"

"That's my rage bubbling over," Black commented.

"Lucille says that little kiddies like to eat it," I continued, pretending obliviousness. "It's a bad thing, Sirius. Causes brain damage."

Black gave me a speaking glance. "You just called me 'Sirius,''' he informed. "You know that?"

I paused, feeling a blush come up. "So I did. Well? That's your name isn't it? A more wonky name was never heard certainly, but I did hear your mum was crazy."

"She is!" Black agreed equably. "But that's a discussion for another time! Look, here we are! This is your mum I take it, Raisin?" Black snaked his entire arm around my waist and fused me to his side.

"Oh!"

With his other hand, Black reached out to take my mum's hand. "A lovelier woman was never seen!"

"Who are you?" my mum asked. "Why is your arm around my daughter?"

"Evelyn didn't _tell_ you?" said Black. He turned to me. "Oh, _darling,_ how could you?"

"_What?"_ I hissed. "What are you doing?"

"Hush!" he said. "Hush. Princess, what am I going to do with you? Not telling your parents! Oh dear me. And after all we've been through!"

My father stepped in. "What's your name, son? You look familiar. I assume our families have met before?"

"I'm sure they have!" said Black. "I'm a Black." My mum gasped. "Sirius Black."

"You're_ that_ boy!" my mum said. I grinned happily now, glancing at Black standing next to me. He looked unfazed, but that would certainly all change in a moment. "Get your hands off my daughter!"

"I can't," Black said. "She's just irresistible."

"Black!" I said. "Stop it!"

"Why?" Black asked. "Why should I stop? You invited your parents here—I think it's only right that I should meet them. I was going to anyway, yes? Yes?" I wouldn't answer him. "I don't see how I couldn't, Evelyn," he said. "Seeing as how you've been telling tales."

"Listen, son," said my father, trying to sound calm. "I don't like your attitude. And I don't like this proprietary hold you have on my daughter. I think you should remove yourself right now. Hanging off her like a limpet—."

"It's disgraceful!" my mother added.

My father nodded. "Step away, Mr. Black. There's a time and place for theatrics and this obviously isn't it." Thankfully The Hall was basically empty except for our little group, but by the way I had been focusing on Black's Mania, I wouldn't have known if our argument was getting recorded on The Wizarding Wireless. Off to the far left, I spied Headmaster Dumbledore rocking on his heels and humming some tune.

Polly sneered. "He's her boyfriend, mum! He doesn't have to let her go!"

"What?" my mum said. "Evelyn, is this true?"

I paled. _"No!"_

Black grinned, hugging me closer. "She's just shy, aren't you?" he said, patting me on the bottom familiarly. "It's understandable! We're still so new and I think I went around this the wrong way. You see, I—."

"Evelyn!" my mum said, eyes drawn to Black's hand intently. "Is this true?"

"No!"

"Is this just…just some lover's spat you called us here for?" my mum continued. "Because if it is then I have to say—."

I shook my head rapidly. This was going all wrong! "No!" I said. "No! Of course it isn't! Why are you believing _him?"_ I gestured at him. "Black is the Devil!"

"The Devil, huh?" my father mused. "Maybe he is. I have certainly never seen you so emotional over a regular boy before."

I glared at Polly when he started laughing hysterically. "Because Black is not a regular boy!"

"Why,_ thank you!"_

"He's mad, he is!" With a lunge, I tore myself away from him. With my parents looking on in horror, I straightened up and brushed off my robes—in effect trying to brush off Black's Evil Touch. "He's not a regular boy at all! I told you what he did to me!"

"And I believe it!" my father said, frowning. "But it also looks like we haven't gotten the full story. Son," he addressed Black, "Could you perhaps Enlighten Us? I think it would be best now if my wife and I heard both sides."

"There is only the one side!" I said. "That of the Righteous!"

"Evelyn!" chastised my mum. She shook her head. "I don't know _what's_ happened to you since we saw you over the summer, but you have changed, and I don't think it's for the better. You were never so rude."

"_You_ were never so rude!" I said, enraged that my parents were being reeled in by Black's charm. "You're supposed to be on my side! What is this? What is this? _The Inquisition?_ Where they torture people into admitting false deeds? Into admitting _heresy?_ I mean, what the fuck?"

"_Language!"_ said my father. _"Evelyn!_ Calm down, can you do that for me?" I frowned darkly. "This yelling can't be good for you!"

"No," Black agreed. "Her face is all mottled!" He reached out a hand in supplication, and I leaned away. "Evelyn, dear—."

"Merlin's Blue Balls!" I said, making my mother gasp. Polly continued laughing. "You need to shut it, you!"

"Maybe we should all sit down?" suggested Black, gesturing to the side door leading out of The Great Hall. "A solid surface might make Evelyn feel more the thing."

My parents nodded, and soon, thanks to a no-longer-humming-now-silent Headmaster Dumbledore, who had been watching the proceedings with what looked like Supreme Amusement, we were all ensconced in The Retiring Room again.

"This isn't happening!" I muttered, feeling the need to rub my temples. "This is just a dream. I'll wake up."

Black nodded knowingly. "Diggory did tell me you dream about me. I'm flattered!"

_Ravenclaw 6th year Girls' Dorm Room._

0100. I'm not going to go into Detail right now. I want to lie down on my large canopied bed, and pull up the covers, and enact a _silencio,_ and pass out. I don't want to think about how Black got my parents to buy his machinations. I don't want to think about how, technically, Black didn't lie about anything, how he just put a different light on what he did, making it sound more flattering for him. I don't want to think about anything!

I want to erase this entire evening from my memory.

My parents left around four hours ago with the idea in their heads that Black had still done a naughty thing, and was deranged certainly, but compared with how much he _liked_ me, a little acting out was expected (and even desired!), since it only proved how infatuated Black was.

I came up here in distress after shaking a smug Black off—Polly had followed on our heels just to be contrary—and seriously, I cannot stop this onslaught of feelings.

Thank Merlin I made The Team, that's all I have to say. We have practice tomorrow, and I am going to beat the arse out of our Keeper. I am going to fly so well, so hard, that the wind is going to blow these traitorous thoughts right out of my head.

MFRG don't understand the situation. Lucille thinks what Black did is actually somewhat funny (I blame Lupin's influence!). Camilla is deranged enough to think that Black has a bit of a fancy for me; that everything is one big act to just get my attention. Tamara is surprised I can't realize Black is In Love With Me Already.

Well, Black is not. Black is not in love with me.

I mean, what tosh!

What Tosh!

I shoo-ed my friends away with warnings that I would travel up to Gryffindor Tower tonight and knock on The Fat Lady's Portrait and demand that Black come out and present himself for a duel if they did not stop going at me. Lucille actually became genuinely concerned that I would ruin my chances with Black as a potential swain, and so got everyone to shut up.

_They think Black wants to be my swain?_

_Ha!_

My parents think Black _is_ my swain?

Well I have news, and that news is this: Black will never be my swain. Thinks he can act like a seven-year-old with his first crush, well, not likely! This is Hogwarts! Not some Muggle Primary School. I deserve respect from people and I will be respected.

"Stop thinking so loud!" Lucille complained groggily, turning over in her bed. "I can hear your rumblings from way over here!"

I sneered through my bed hangings, directing it with laser-like precision at Lucille's forehead. "I am trying to stop, You Mad Divining Cow! Cut me some slack! I've had the Day From Hell."

"There's always tomorrow!" replied Lucille. "It's a new day, tomorrow."

I groaned. "You're right! Tomorrow might be twice as bad!"

"Go to sleep!" Lucille said. "You, in All Her Glory, who decided she didn't want to talk to us, her very best friends. Well, this is your reward!"

"You go to sleep!" I muttered. "You'll see. You'll all see. Tomorrow is going to be awful."

I moved my pillow over my head and smothered a scream in it. My father was right. I usually am not this emotional. I don't know what's wrong with me.


	18. Chapter 18

_Ravenclaw 6th year Girls' Dorm Room._

_I know what's wrong with me: _I hate Sirius Black.

It's been a while in coming. It has taken more than five years and three hundred run-ins, but I've finally figured it out. And the conclusion is that I hate Black. Of course, I would hate him. He's the kind of boy whose presence makes you start your period early. Spending so much time with Black recently has made my emotions open up like a dam and the hate pour out. I'm not used to feeling so negative all the time, but there you go. However, I feel more than just hate.

#1: I feel Bravery. I don't think I have ever felt as brave.

And #2: I feel a new Kindness.

Encroaching on everyone who is not Sirius Black or Mara Dice is this wave of grand appreciation. Even with all of their quirks, those loyal to me are still the best group of females I have ever met and I don't know what I would do without them (Be a miserable fat hermit, I suppose, though this thinking isn't worth bearing on). New Feelings aside however, the miserable-ness of my situation with Black does not escape me. I still am under his thumb. I still need to make him pay. Fell deeds like these cannot go unpunished.

I was right: this day is going to be pretty shite, and it's only been ten minutes since I've woken up. I've been staring at my midnight blue canopy with the white stars, trying to come up with a Solution and only remembering what went wrong last night and how I could have prevented it all by just pranking Black in the beginning and not owling my parents. But I was stubborn, and I didn't want to admit defeat. I thought I'd persevere in my own way by running to mum and the result was embarrassing.

I have never, unnatural though it is, felt the compulsion most kids my age have to protect their malefactors when they've done them a wrong. On the contrary, I like these people to pay and pay hard. I have no revulsion to tattling if it gets the job done. Tattling is sometimes the only method of revenge a person has; which is why I used it; and which is why I preemptively got a big head and ruined it all.

I did a Tempus Spell perhaps…six minutes ago. It is hard to tell how much time has passed when I am feeling like this. So much anger is coursing through my head, I do not think I feel like getting up even for Quidditch.

This is how I feel:

I feel like the first person I meet is going to get a Blast Of Anger So Thick that he or she will be blown away into the atmosphere never to be seen again. I feel like I did a week ago when all this mess started, and Black had the House-Elves drop an Expungent into my tea. I do need to get up, however, because I made a commitment when I joined Quidditch, and that is what people do with commitments—They Commit.

Aside from feeling angry, I also feel a bit strange. Perhaps I've forgotten something important? Some key piece to all of this mess that may help me work everything out? But obviously I do not know what that is or I wouldn't be talking like I do not. Maybe Lucille promised to tell me something last night.

Am not sure. All I know is that if I live in the immediate moment, I cannot possibly fuck up too badly. I just might survive and come out a little stronger.

So: no thinking about the future, Evelyn! That is an order! No matter how soon it might come to pass.

(Edit: Perhaps it would indeed be just as well to stop thinking full-stop and put down my notebook?)

I put down my notebook.

I need a shower anyway. My anger is making my armpits smell rank.

And I doubt my notebook is going to bring me the kind of snuggly cuddly comfort I need right now, anyhow. Best to leave it on my bed. My suitemates know through experience not to touch it.

Hmm…thinking again.

Maybe The Kind Of Comfort I Need Right Now is simply Impossible to attain? Truth that Black is still alive and under the impression that he can run my life.

Well, he cannot!

He Cannot!

I am Sick Of This Mess.

Black fooled my parents into believing that we were dating (a notion so absurd that I wonder at my parents' sanity for buying it) and then in the end I was the one who was punished. And punished doubly on that score too!

Being Naughty And Getting Out My Journal And Thinking About This Some More:

There are, as I see it, Four Options Left:

#1: Take This Lying Down and Learn To Live With It. Learn To Live With the fact that Sirius Black is Superior when it comes to Getting Even and anything else I try Black will just block, so why try it in the first place? Black will push my self-esteem down into the dirt like he has done so many countless times before, and I should just learn to accept that it will naturally happen, as Facts Of Life will naturally happen.

Scratching that one out. I don't like the look of Number One! It seems Foul.

#1 Revised: Go along with Black for now. Lead him into a false sense of awareness like he did for me. Gradually, and inconspicuously—the inconspicuous is very important—get him to Let down his guard for a counter-strike. When the moment is ripe, humiliate him.

Or kill him. Either or.

Dear Reader, you should realize that just humiliating Black might not be as satisfying for me in the end. I hate him so very much. I think I may need to kill him. Surely, surely, once I Humiliate Black, it would be a much better plan to tie up all loose ends.

Surely, once I Humiliate Black, he will come back twice as angry and eager to do me a wrong. Oh, I think the latter is much more likely.

But I am a peaceful person when it comes down to it, so maybe I shall save Actually Killing Black for Second Revised Edition Of Number One.

First Revised Number One has a more than few flaws. I am seeing that now. Most important among them being that Black has what Muggles call "Street-Smarts." If I even veer off in my conspicuous hatred for a minute, Black will find a way to force me to come clean on my plot; I know he will. So I have to make sure this Number Two is a very good one.

#2: Enlist Lucille's Beautiful Remus to annoy Black into submission. Lupin will nag Black to do what's right by me until they are both sore in the arse from a buggering. And when that happens, I can come in and receive my apology from a cowed, now sympathetic to my plight, reputation in shatters, Sirius O. Black.

Or not.

Ha!

I know that will never happen. Dreams will exist.

I should make a Revised Edition of Number Two as well. If Pervy Lupin, through apparent countless talks, and ideas of intervention, has since failed in his efforts to get Black to see my side of things and stop harassing me, then what makes me think that Lupin will succeed now? Lupin is still just as meek when presented with a foolish friend as he was three years ago. The only difference now is that he possibly realizes what Black is doing is wrong. And perhaps that makes his reticence all the more egregious. This is a character flaw I am not sure Lucy should overlook.

#2 Revised: Contact Black's parents again. I had not quite been thinking clearly yesterday, but now I know: if the meeting with my parents was supposed to Clear All Of This Up, then why weren't Black's mama and papa in attendance as well? My parents said they had informed the elder Blacks, but maybe they just don't really care about their son? I find that hard to believe since Black is a Pureblood Scion and the Eldest. He is their Heir. He must be important in at least a prideful kind of way.

I Will Contact Them. See that this mess is cleared up once and for all. Black says his mama is mad? Well, they can have a reunion, I think. Madness is exactly what is needed right now, anyway, because it'll get things done. Black looks to have inherited this insanity anyway.

I think this list looks good. I know, in the beginning, I said I had Four Options, but it looks like I now have only two.

But no one ever got anywhere by not having a back-up plan to The Back-Up Plan, so I think I will employ all choices. I am curious as to what kind of home life Black has had if his parents are not even concerned enough with appearances to come to a Reckoning for their son's misdeeds.

_Headmaster Dumbledore's Office._

Quidditch was Marvelous!

Since decided that Captain Heathcote is also Marvelous. Though this isn't really news.

Heathcote Barbary is so serious about Quidditch that he infects other people with his disease, and we all fly like creatures born to the air. What is even more marvelous is that since our Captain is such a serious boy, he will not brook any—to use a McGonagall term from The Welcoming Feast—Tomfoolery on his Pitch. Captain Heathcote expects to win the Quidditch Cup, and we certainly cannot do that this year if everyone is harassing me and trying to get me off my broom.

No. We must remain a Team.

I actually almost wish there had been an extra spot available so Mara could have had another chance of making it. Get verbally smacked around by an irate 7th year and see how Mara likes harassing me in the future. Merlin, but I think I fancy our Captain a bit!

Anyway!

I am walking to Headmaster Dumbledore's Office right now to have a little chat. I felt the need to journey up here so I could try and talk some sense into him concerning last night, and I am feeling a little anxious. I am amazed that even when Dumbledore knew everything that was going on he still stepped back and let Black run the show. I am amazed.

Amazed and, yes, somewhat appalled that this old man can call himself our Head. My faith has been shaken a bit.

Lucille apparently realized this about our Headmaster a long time ago. I wonder when she stopped considering him to be the incarnation of Merlin? Maybe in 4th year? 5th year? I would like to know why I am always behind everyone in Figuring Things Out these days. This is not usually the case. It is getting very annoying.

"Ah, Miss Ransom!" The Headmaster met me at the top of the Staircase on the seventh floor and gestured me to walk in front of him. "I have been expecting you!"

"You have? I didn't write you a note, sir, I'm sorry. I was just at Quidditch Practice. Thought I'd just come up."

"So I see," Professor Dumbledore said kindly making me more aware than ever of my Sweaty Quidditch Attire. I was in a hurry, but I should have at least done a Cleaning Spell. I realize that now. "I'll follow you. We'll go straight up."

"Yes, sir."

I have been inside The Headmaster's Office only once before. That was in third year when I swallowed my pride, and went to beg him to re-sort Mara Dice into a different House so I didn't have to look at her fat face every morning when I woke up. I was obviously rebuffed; "obviously," because Mara still lives among the Ravenclaws, and sent on my way with a mouth full of half-sucked lemon drops and a spirit full of humility. This will not be the case today.

I am nervous, true. But if I have to talk until my throat closes up from overuse, I am going to convince our Headmaster that he needs to step in and do something about Black.

I mean, this is not the way to run a school.

I understand that Hogwarts has a large enrollment. I understand that its supervisors generally like to employ a don't ask-don't tell policy concerning the individuals of this large enrollment, but when it comes to nurturing the freedom to grow, these people are doing it all wrong. I have half a mind to send an owl to the School Board and see what comes of it. Only thing that is stopping me is that it might bring more attention than I want.

At the moment, I am content with just having a talk with Professor Dumbledore and see how things go.

The Headmaster better prepare for me however, because with the adrenaline pumping through me, I feel oddly alive. Quidditch has refreshed me and I feel like I can do anything. I feel like I can Move Mountains and Crush Heads with only my bare hands to do the job. Hopefully no Crushing will be necessary, but it is still always nice to know one has that option.

"Pumpkin Pasty!" The Headmaster said the password, and up we went on the spiraling staircase and into his Office. "Will you close the door behind you, dear?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Ah, thank you. Have a seat." The Headmaster gestured to a large wing-backed chair in front of his desk, and I slipped in, feeling more than a tad uncomfortable now. This talk apparently was Actually Happening. "Would you like some tea? How about a lemon drop?"

"No thank you on the lemon drop. Though some tea would be nice." I leaned forward to inspect the silver serviette resting on his desk. "What do you have, sir?"

"Let's have a look, shall we?" Professor Dumbledore bent his aged wizard head over the tea pot, and breathed in the aroma of fresh fumes. "Smells like peppermint!" he said, then smacked his lips. "I love mint! Shall I pour us some?"

Anxious about The Headmaster's abnormally long beard dirtying up my tea cup, I said, "No! No! I'll do it, sir! I mean, if you'll allow, of course."

"By all means! Thank you, Miss Ransom."

I nodded, beginning to pour. "Do you want any sugar, sir?"

"Two cubes, if it suits you. And a dab of milk and honey."

"You do have a sweet tooth," I commented.

Professor Dumbledore chuckled. "I do indeed, Miss Ransom! I do indeed!"

Only when I had poured myself a cup and had settled back in my chair did The Headmaster address me again: "I take it you're disappointed that I didn't say anything last night?" He stared at me with eerily swirly blue eyes.

"Yes, sir," I said, holding the urge I had to fidget; rumor had it that The Headmaster had a way of looking at you where you felt all your secrets were laid to bare. I've decided this rumor is true. Was a bit creepy, was what it was. "Yes," I said again. "I'm sorry, but it didn't seem to me like you, well, like you cared either way, sir? Is that wrong?"

"I apologize if I gave you that impression," said Dumbledore. "It is my wish that the students and faculty under me can come to me with any complaints, any desires they have, and I will listen. And I apologize if I gave you the impression last night that I was not listening when I actually care very much."

"Oh," I said. "I'm sorry. Sir."

"You shouldn't be apologizing to me, Miss Ransom," Professor Dumbledore chided, "if I am in the wrong!"

I nodded. "Right."

The Headmaster steepled his fingers under where I imagined his chin to be, and gave me a long considering look. "Maybe it would be best if I told you a little story? Maybe then you will understand the difficult position I am forced in when two of my brightest students have a difficulty with each other."

I nodded. _"Two_ of your bright-?"

"Indeed."

"Well, alright, sir."

The Headmaster sighed. "It all begins with a wizard by the name of Lord Voldemort."

I choked on a sip of my tea. _"Y-You-Know-Who?"_

"Yes," said The Headmaster with a hard glance. "Him. I know it goes against what you've been taught by your peers, but please try in the future, Miss Ransom, to refer to him by his name. Letting your fear overtake you just for a simple name is giving Lord Voldemort more respect than he deserves."

Not agreeing with The Headmaster that You-Know-Who's name was anything simple at all, I nevertheless said, "I'll try, sir."

"Good. Getting on with it: as you know, there are many families out there who support Lord Voldemort's tactics." He paused, waiting for my nod, and then continued, "They may or may not be Death Eaters themselves, but there is no question that a kind of arrogant approbation exists between those families and Lord Voldemort."

"You're talking about the Malfoys and the Lestranges," I whispered.

The Headmaster inclined his head. "In a word, yes. Also: the Blacks."

I sat up quickly, splashing a bit of my tea in the process. "I didn't think—."

The Headmaster raised a hand to forestall me. "While it is true that the Black Family isn't very vocal in their support of Lord Voldemort, I know for a fact that our young Mr. Black's home life has never been the easiest. Or the brightest. These past six or so years have been particularly awful for him."

"Sirius Black is a Gryffindor. His parents can't like that too much." I paused for a moment, remembering: "…My parents did say that his dad spent thousands of galleons on warding his house with all sorts of dark spells…"

"Yes, that would be just like Orion Black," The Headmaster said seriously, "to do something like that. Bear in mind that that is only one example however."

Momentary Sympathy for Black aside, I couldn't control my sneer. "Poor little rich boy!" I muttered.

Headmaster Dumbledore frowned. "It would behoove all of us to show a little compassion in these dark, devastating days, Miss Ransom," he reprimanded. "It is not fair to judge what you do not know."

"I know that he's immature, sir," I said. "I also know that regardless of Black's life at home, he should be able to show some common courtesy! Nurture _and_ Nature."

"True. Though, the sad fact of the matter is that Sirius Black does not live at home—or 'home' as you would think it—anymore."

"What?" I said, surprised. "Where does he live, sir?"

"The summer after his 5th year here, Mr. Black left his parents' property for good. Unfortunately, he will never escape the shadow his years there have left him with."

"Why did Black leave, sir?"

Professor Dumbledore shrugged. "Sirius Black simply could not take the amount of hate directed towards him by those who were supposed to love him."

"So he _ran away?" _This was inconceivable to me.

"Yes," said The Headmaster somberly. "To Mr. Potter's house—where he has always felt more comfortable."

For a couple of minutes, I didn't know what to say to that and just sipped at my tea. Black was evil, sure, but it was starting to sound like his stupidity wasn't completely his fault. As a person who found it hard to understand how any parent could not love their own child to distraction (and even eventual resentment on that child's behalf), it struck me as unpalatable to think that Black had any kind of difficulty at home. Surely, for Black to feel unloved enough to run away, something dreadful must have been done to him as a child?

Surely?

That thought Rapidly Brought Me Around To Sense. As The Headmaster looked on, the frustration I felt made my face go red. "I just bet he felt unloved!" I said snottily.

"Miss Ransom!"

"I'm sorry, Headmaster," I said, "but from all I've seen, it doesn't take much for Sirius Black to feel like people don't like him! He puts up a front, I know. And maybe, sometimes, he does have a softer side, but all I seem to get from him is his bad one. I'm sorry, sir." I was more than a bit agitated with myself that I was sharing all of this. I couldn't seem to stop! "But I just don't see how I should be expected to let things slide. A serial rapist can go around raping women, and he may have had a bad childhood, sure, but does that excuse his acts? It's not practical!"

"I believe you may understand young Mr. Black more than you think you do," said The Headmaster after a long moment of silence.

I nodded. "I agree, sir. I know his type _very_ well."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Regardless of what his parents think of him, regardless of their lack of concern, it doesn't change the fact that Black Obviously knows that he's being an arse—." The Headmaster raised his eyebrows, so I rephrased. "An arrogant person, sir."

"I see. Well, Miss Ransom, I am sorry you feel that way. I have to say I am disappointed you feel so disheartened by Mr. Black's behavior. It was my hope that I could get you to, not agree with Mr. Black's actions—as he did wrong you, and for that he is being punished—but to understand perhaps why he feels the need to act out on occasion."

"And an understanding eventually leads to prevention, of further tiffs sir?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Just so!"

_The Quidditch Pitch._

Going out to do some flying again. I haven't been able to sit still all morning. The Talk with Dumbledore has only increased this desire I have to move about and release my energy. I don't know what to think anymore, really.

The Headmaster more than hinted that Black has been abused. As it should with any human, this doesn't sit well with me at all.

However…seriously, the rest of his little speech was just a load of Dirty Bollocks.

Sure, Black is either what he was born as or what he was made to be by his parents and sycophantic peers, but regardless of what other people say, it does not change what he is Doing to me. If he's insane, then send him to St. Mungos, but otherwise, Black should be punished just like all of us regular-looking people. If Black wants to be a shitehead, I don't think he deserves any kind of sympathy from me for feeling the need to act out. I've been bullied. I've been pushed around by people I've given my trust to, but do I go off and play malicious pranks on people just so I can feel Superior at the end of the day?

No.

No, I do not.

I guess it all boils down to this:

Is Revenge really worth it in the long run?

The Headmaster had a good point earlier: we _are_ living in dark, devastating days. Maybe I should just let what Black did go as Unimportant, and make a more concerted effort to Band Together With My Fellow Man.

Maybe.

Perhaps I won't contact Black's parents after all.


	19. Chapter 19

_The Library._

"Raisin. Haven't seen you much these last few days."

I groaned, looking up from the reading of my most recent Defense notes, and into the rather glinty gray eyes of Sirius Black. I had honestly been working on avoiding him. Saturday and Sunday were rather harsh on me and I needed some time to recharge and think about all this excess of information Headmaster Dumbledore laid on me. It has not been working so far!

It is Tuesday afternoon now, between my classes, and I have been trying to do some last minute studying for my exam on Defense. Unfortunately, my solitude is obviously at an end. Black has cornered me. "Hello," I said. "How delightful to see you, Black! How's your mum?" Refusing to move my stuff aside so he could sit down, I actually spread it over the table and surrounding seats, hoping it would serve as discouragement. Black slipped in regardless, and sat on my papers.

"Is it? I would have thought you'd forgotten about me. I missed you, by the way. Missed your voice."

I frowned. "How I could possibly forget your big head is beyond my capabilities to comprehend." I ignored the part about Black missing me and instead focused on being as stern as I could. "Black, as you know, it's always a pleasure, but I really do have to finish studying here, so…" I made a shooing motion with my hands. "If you please, leave."

Black glowered. "It seems a lot is beyond you these days!" he said grumpily. "Why is that? Been a little preoccupied, Raisin? Still sore from Saturday night, are you?"

"No," I said succinctly. "I am not."

"Oh, really?"

I fidgeted, trying to swallow my anger. I had to understand he only wanted to get me riled. "Right, Black. As you can see, I am trying to study for Defense, and I cannot do that if you're here, stinking up The Library. A girl can't get a moment's peace when that happens. So if you could remove yourself, I would be most obliged."

Black only moved closer. "Why should I remove myself? When I like being here so much?"

"As I see it, there are three reasons. Would you like to know what they are?"

Black nodded eagerly. "Oh, please."

"Right. Well, as I see it…Reason Number One: Merlin Save Us From Exam Week is coming up in a few days. That should be reason enough to not want to be bothered. Especially by you. I need to do well."

"Pull the other one!" said Black. "You love it when I bother you!"

"Syrupy!" I chastised. "No, I don't. Actually, I hate being bothered by you."

Black frowned. "Come off it! You know you love me!"

"Well, if you want to believe that then that's fine, but really, I do not."

Shrugging, Black said with annoying confidence, "We'll see. Now, as for the rest of your Number One, it would be true only if it weren't for the fact that you hate studying."

"As your Tutor I find it strange that you think so. Since it is my job to study with you."

Black ignored the absolute logic of this. "What's Reason Number Two?" he said. "Afraid of me already?"

"_Pah,"_ I said viciously.

"Pah?"

"Reason Number Two," I continued quickly, "is that contrary to what you think: it is _not _that I am _afraid_ of you. It is that I do not like you. I am sure you can appreciate not wanting to be around people you don't like. You've seemed to employ this reasoning remarkably well ever since school began."

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Black. "Are you, perhaps…?" Black squinted at me closely, seeming somehow very interested in my answer. "Are you perhaps _disappointed_ that we haven't gotten to talk that much, Raisin?"

"How you could come up with that when I have just told you I dislike you, I don't know. But it's quite ridiculous," I said. "You're being quite ridiculous. I was referring to Severus Snape."

"_Snivelly?" _Black said, patent disgust written all over his face (Something that happened every time I brought Severus into conversation). "Why would you be thinking about _Snivelus?"_

"I think about Severus a lot more often than I think about you," I lied.

"Raisin!"

"What?" I said a moment later, a smile lurking around my lips. Black looked scandalized. "It's true! Severus has helped me out a lot with my potion this year. He's a _darling_ boy—."

Black covered his ears with his hands. "Ack! I'm not listening! I'm not listening! Stop talking!"

"He's a _darling_ boy! Absolutely _smashing! _I love his lips!"

"I don't want to hear another word! Do you hear me? No more, Raisin!"

"Well, that was the point wasn't it?" I said. "For you to want to leave."

"Who said anything about leaving?" asked Black. "I'm not leaving!"

"Oh dear! Well. If you won't leave, Black, at least allow me to tell you Reason Number Three."

Black looked at me suspiciously. "No talk of Snivelly!" he ordered, grabbing onto my left hand and putting it to my chest. I looked down. To this day, I remain flabbergasted and annoyed by Black's audacity when it comes to Matters Of Personal Space. "Swear, or I'll do something you'll regret."

"Somefink I'll weegwet, huh?" I said, in my most baby-ish voice possible, masking my unease. "How awwfo!"

"Shut it."

I rolled my eyes, then decided belatedly that it might be proactive to do a cursory check of The Library for Madam Pince. The Lovely Book Hag In Question seemed to be patrolling another area, so Black and I were in luck this time, but anything could change. Unlike Black, I didn't want to earn a Detention. I made a resolve to talk quieter. "Reason Number Three," I said turning back, "is this: I need time by myself to get my studying out of the way so I may prepare for our Tutoring Session tonight."

Black chose not to comment on the fact that, barring a real desire to do well on my tests next week, Reason Number Three sounded suspiciously like Reason Number One. "Ah, yes," he said enigmatically. "Tutoring starts up again tonight."

"Indeed. I hope you've had sufficient time to prepare yourself for The Horror? I've written up some quiz questions."

"Have_ you_ had time to prepare yourself for The Horror?" Black bantered.

"I've also written up a guideline sheet, yes, Black. But the Real Preparation will come in when you leave and I have time again to concentrate on other matters. So, if you please…" I waved Black away again. When he refused to budge, I added, "You're crushing my papers. I need to hand those in."

"So snarky these days!" Black said with a leer. "So fiery! How it makes me quiver!"

"Ew. Black, stop being silly."

"I wasn't being silly."

"I am not _fiery,"_I said. "I just have an opinion which I expressed."

Black nodded. "A snarky, fiery opinion!"

"Is this really what you wanted? To come in here and yap at me? To pant like a dog? Don't you have better things to do? Don't you and Potter have some prank to finish up?"

"I do not _yap," _Black said importantly. "And I don't pant either."

I snorted.

"Pull the othe—."

"I talk in a calm and dignified manner," Black said. "One suited to my Noble Pureblood Heritage. And James and I do indeed have a prank to finish up. Which is why I'm in here now, talking to you. I need your help, Raisin!"

I felt my blood run cold. "No," I said. "No." Good Girl. He has no power over you. Except to make you angry. "I won't do it. Whatever it is."

"Why do you sound so dismal? Don't you want to be recruited? It'll make you popular!"

"Uh, no, I don't want to be recruited!" I said. "What would possibly make you think that I did?"

"But you want to be helpful!" said Black. "I know you do. At least when it comes to improving on my grades. This could do just that, I promise!"

Catching Madam Pince tottering along in my periphery, I dropped my voice down to a whisper. "I am not following you!" I said, confusion mixed with a good amount of paranoia in my voice. "How will helping you out with a prank improve on your grades?"

Black winked at me saucily. "You'll just have to see!"

"Uh, no. No, Black, I won't have to see, because I am not doing it. So why don't you just tell me what the prank is now, and I'll say 'no,' and you can leave, defeated, and we'll both be merry? How 'bout it? Sound like a plan? It sounds like a plan to me."

Black shook his head. "I don't like it." He scooted his seat closer to me, making the wooden posts squeak harshly against the floor. Madam Pince narrowed in on us like a vulture.

"_Black!"_ I warned. "Stop."

"Oh, calm down, little girl," he said patronizingly. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Where's your sense? Got swallowed up by your stupidity, did it?"

"Now, that's not fair!"

"I think what would be most fair in this situation is if you were to leave." I paused. "…And never come back."

"But what about tutori—?"

"Except for Tutoring," I added. "Except for that."

For a long, long moment, Black stared at me. "I don't understand you," he said finally. "But I will."

"Well, alright, Black. That's your prerogative."

_The Great Hall._

I think I have Figured Things Out. Dinner is almost over and soon I'll need to be trudging up to McGonagall's classroom. But I think I have Figured Things Out:

I need to treat Black like a Regular Student.

Of course I realize that I have tried to apply this Tactic Of War before with little to no Suitable Results Yielded, but no one has ever been more determined than I to ignore Sirius Black now. Not even Severus Snape; who, it has to be said, wouldn't let Black come near him with a fifty-foot pole if he had his way.

Too bad for Snape that he does not have his way in this matter and is left trying to put off Black's Super Poofter Advances day in and day out, but so is life. I have to deal with Black on a daily basis and I am learning to put up with it! So should Snape, I think.

Facts Of Life aside, I feel for Severus Snape. I really do. If I was in Snape's shoes, I would have long ago forsaken my self-restraint and murdered Black.

I would have happily watched my wand be snapped in two, and I would have happily strolled out of Hogwarts with an Auror escort—never to enter its hallowed halls again.

I would have. I would have.

But since I am female and, we've been over this, straight, I have these pesky things called Hormones to make me question my loyalties and generally cock up my day.

My Hormones are responsible for my crush on Black.

My Hormones are also responsible for why, every time I am in Sirius Black's presence, I cannot seem to stop from imagining what it would feel like to kiss him.

This is Obviously Incredibly Unfair.

I do not want to be attracted to Sirius Black.

He is the worst sort of boy out there. He Ruins Females. He plays with our emotions and he laughs about it, and I Am Realizing Now that he will never grow up. Black will remain a Lost Boy forever. Black may age on the outside, but inside, he will still be just as scared, just as apparently scarred as he was at the age of thirteen.

This I know.

And that is what is so supremely awful, because he is a waste of good wizard flesh, is what he is.

Why can't Black be ugly? Why? It'd be easier to ignore him if he were ugly.

I must calm down, however, because Lucille and Camilla are looking at me intently, trying to see through to my thoughts.

"You can't have them!" I said.

I must be The Bigger Person when it comes to Black. After Dinner, I must needs just suck it up, and get on with it, and tutor that Devil's Spawn into the ground. I must tutor him to the best of my ability, and tutor him so hard and well that no 7th year ever will be so well regarded in the myopic eyes of Ghostly Professor Binns as Sirius Black will be at the end of this term.

Yes. I have decided. I feel much more relaxed now.

Lucille and Camilla noticed this change immediately.

"About damn time!" groused Lucille. "I was beginning to wonder if I had to slap you."

"You should never have to resort to such a base, Muggle way of fighting," I advised. "If you wanted to get my attention, you simply had to ask for it."

Lucille glared at me, and opened her mouth for a harsh retort. Camilla, thinking it wise to intervene, said, "But, Evie, we've _been_ asking for it. We've been trying to tell you all Supper long about Tamara."

Just noticing now that the Girl In Evidence was missing, I said, "Where is she? Why isn't she at Dinner? Doesn't she have to eat?"

"Concerned?" said Lucille. "Your head is gone from your arse now, is it?"

I leaned across The Table. "Why no, Lucille, it's not! And such a shame, too! When everyone knows that it's _you_ I would prefer conversing with and not my arsehole."

"Evie!" Camilla said. "You stop that right now!" I sank down in my seat, feeling ill-mannered and obnoxious. "We've been trying to tell you about Tamara." Noting the question on my face, Camilla added, "Yes, she is at Dinner. No, you can't go to her."

"Why would I want to go to her?"

"That's it!" said Lucille. "You can stop right there!"

"What?"

"For five years you've been Just Barely Putting Up, as you say, with Tammy, and I don't understand why you think you're so perfect as to warrant treating her like scum."

"I don't treat Tammy like scum," I defended, a bit hurt. "Or, I don't mean to. It's unconscious, if it's there. An unconscious treating of scum."

"The most fell deeds are sometimes done with the best of intentions," Lucille informed me. "Just because you may not think you're hurting Tammy's feelings, doesn't mean you aren't."

"Has she said anything to you?" I said. "I didn't know—."

Camilla shook her head. "Don't worry about it, Evie. Lucille's just sore about Remus. He hasn't been feeling well these past couple days. Come to think of it, this illness of his apparently comes and goes quite frequently, doesn't it? I don't think I've ever seen him away from The Hospital Wing for more than a month at a time. That's strange."

"I told you he had syphilis, Lucy."

"_Anyway," _Lucille said, getting attention off of her boyfriend. "Tammy hasn't said anything to me, Evelyn, you know that. You know how kind-hearted of a person Tammy is. She would never think to realize that you're being mean to her. It simply would never occur to her."

"I know," I said. I looked around The Ravenclaw Table, not seeing any sign of her. "So, where is she? She's sitting next to a boy," I observed, spotting Tamara with The Puffs. "Why is she—why is she sitting next to _Featherbutt?" _I demanded, already rising from my seat; my body apparently pulled by some Greater Force Than Sense. Tamara greeted my stare with a giant smile. "What?"

"Noticed that finally, did you?" said Lucille smugly. "It's about time! Tammy's been there for all of Dinner, while you've had your head glued to that notebook of yours."

"But why is she sitting with _Featherbutt?"_ I said. "He's freakish. He doesn't date he only masturbates! No woman would want him. His head's shaped like a pear. His body's shaped like a potato. He can't date." I looked at Lucille. "He's a queer, Lucille, and I know this from experience. Why is Tammy sitting with a queer?"

"Why shouldn't she sit with Featherhead?" Lucille said. "They're neighbors. Their estates border each other. Come to think of it, all three of your parents' estates border each other. So don't give me that song and dance about Tammy not knowing him. And to make a further point, Tammy's a perfectly good girl. Any boy would be lucky to have her, especially Featherhead."

"I know that," I said. "I know all of that. Merlin knows I wish I didn't, but I do. I am asking you why she is sitting next to a boy who will devour all of her goodness. He is obviously the rankest pedophile. Tammy is two years younger than him. They have no business!"

"Maybe she likes him?" suggested Lucille in impatience. _"Maybe he likes her?_ Maybe they want to date each other?"

"B-but…" My brain started to shut down. "Featherhead's a poof," was all I could come up with. "Hair styled like a girl's bush."

Camilla broke down into giggles.

"Apparently not!" Lucille snapped. "And sit back down, won't you? Your Black is looking over."

Immediately, I sank into my seat again. "He's not my Black," I said. "When did this happen? When? I turn my back for one second and the world goes arse over tit."

Camilla shrugged. "He's nice to her," she said in explanation.

"So are House-Elves."

_The Entrance Hall._

"Raisin!"

"Black," I said, for once preoccupied with something aside from him.

What made Featherbutt think that he could corrupt my friends?

I would really like to know.

I mean, this was preposterous. All throughout Dinner, Tammy had been sitting next to Annoying Anthony Featherhead and I was just supposed to accept it and move on? Accept her condescension towards a boy was so dim and uncreative he gave definitions straight from the book when called upon by our professors? The boy who has followed me around Hogwarts for five years and change, sniffing my hair? The boy who used to sneak into my garden in the middle of the night to levitate bugs through my window? The boy who had the audacity to come back from Holiday looking attractive? No.

No.

I Refuse.

"What are you doing?" I asked Black in a panic, finally noting that he had a hold on my arm and was dragging me towards an alcove. "What is this?"

"I need to talk to you alone!" said Black, and my brain once again threatened to shut down; this time from mortification. Thank Merlin there weren't very many people here, MFRG included, otherwise I would probably have turned stone-cold-nuts. Black gave a sour look to the only witnesses in attendance, a group of midget hovering Hufflepuff girls, encouraging them to leave. _"Go!"_ Black ordered. "Scatter! It's past your bed time anyway, babies!"

"Black!" I admonished, trying to move away. "They're second years. They're not babies."

Black shrugged. "As good as!

The girls gasped in outrage, showing me that not even Black's patrician good looks could save him from sneers when he was being an arsehole.

"I see you've made more enemies. Torn away more illusions." I nodded to the now scattering group of girls. "How busy your day has been. Couldn't get your fill of me in The Library? Had to come for more, did you?"

Black swung me into a wall.

"_Merlin!"_

"Have you ever been kissed, Raisin?" Black said curiously, in the tone of voice I would expect a professor might use when he or she was about to broach upon a new topic of interest: Completely Academic. "Tell the truth now."

"Get off me, you great nasty lummox!" I gurgled, unable to breathe properly with Black's irritating weight cutting into my chest. "This is unacceptable. Do you know what that word means? Get off."

Black pulled back his teeth in a snarl, and glared at me. "What is unacceptable," he said, "is that you just do not seem to get it! I have tried _everything_ I can think of." Here, Black emphasized his point by slamming a palm against the stone by my ear. I jumped. "Everything!"

"Black, you seem a bit frazzled. Perhaps Madam Pomfrey has something she could give you."

"Shut it!" Black ordered. "No more talking when I am talking, Raisin."

"Otherwise, there will be consequences?" I mocked.

Black nodded with conviction. _"Yes!"_

"That's lovely!" I said, already disregarding his directions. "I am so happy you've finally grown some bollocks and decided to—."

Black slapped his other palm against the wall, now completely boxing me in to his disgusting-ness. _"Enough!_ Enough of that!" Discretely, I attempted a reach for my wand. See what the plonky tosser thought of pushing me around when he had his ears turned into his feet, his lips turned into his arse. I almost couldn't reach it, because of how my arms were pinned against Black's chest, but gradually, gradually I was making some progress. "Please!" Black said. "Please, just shut up."

"I love it when you talk dirty!" I breathed. "Makes me go all hot."

"Raisin—."

"Make me!" I dared.

Black did. He kissed me.

Having succeeded in finally getting a firm hold on my wand, I pointed it at the devil, and shot out some blue sparks. _"You awful boy!"_ I cried.

Black tore his head away, and leapt. "Oi!"

"Worst Kiss Ever!" I said, wiping Black's saliva off my mouth with the hand I wasn't using to hold up my wand. I Ignored The Tinglies, as they weren't important.

Across from me, Black was in the process of patting down his robes to prevent the sparks from catching fire on the wool. He had his wand out from under a sleeve and aimed at me a second later. We stood in a face-off, eyeing each other warily.

"You didn't have to do that!" Black said, two twin spots of rage now forming on his cheeks. "I would have stopped if you had asked!"

"What made you think that I wanted to be kissed?" I demanded.

Black shrugged. "Please! You've been begging for it all month!"

"You're delusional."

"_You're_ a coward."

I brushed Black's comment off like the insipid thing it was. "Better a coward than an idiot," I said.

Black's wand sparked threateningly. He started forward. _"You—!"_

"I am going to The Transfiguration Room!" I interrupted quickly, lest he decide to tackle me again. "You're welcome to come along once you've calmed down a bit. Hopefully," I added, "you won't come at all, and McGonagall will give you detention, but you do have an exam on Thursday so you maybe you should."

"Don't you dare turn your back on me!" Black warned, seeing me about to do just that. "Raisin, We are not done here yet!"

"What, Black? We're going to have a _duel?_ Here in The Hall with the possibility of people coming to look on? How voyeuristic of you!"

Black glanced around the empty Hall, not seeming nervous at all. "I don't see anyone here, Raisin," Black said. "Too afraid to stay and see what happens? Too afraid to be alone with me? Too afraid you'll like it? You're being a coward!"

"So you say," I said. "But I didn't ask for you to kiss me." I looked him over cursory-like. "I assume, with the way your trousers are tenting out you enjoyed squishing me into the wall, but I can assure you, my response was the opposite."

Black quickly inspected himself, cursed, then looked back up at me. "Hey!" Black said. _"Hey!"_

In the interim, I had of course started running away.

"S-see you in f-five!" I called, panting a bit. "I h-hope your b-balls g-go blue!"

_Transfiguration Classroom._

"Professor McGonagall!" I said in surprise, entering The Classroom and noting her presence. "What—?"

The Professor nodded at me in greeting. "What am I doing here, Miss Ransom? The Headmaster thought it would be prudent to take up supervision of these sessions again. This way Mr. Black's…" McGonagall paused, apparently searching for the right word, "behavior may be curbed. I agree with him."

"Why, thank you, ma'am!" I said, very sincerely, delighted with this news. Supervision right now would be excellent. This was exactly what I needed; to have my Hell transformed into a Haven. I felt a pleasant warmth suffuse its way through my bloodstream. Hearing Black trying to sneak up behind me, I turned around "Did you hear?" I said with a happy, possibly annoying grin that only grew larger at seeing Black's irritated look. "Professor McGonag—."

"Yes," said Black. _"I know."_

"We're to be supervised again!" I continued unnecessarily. "Isn't it wonderful, Black? Thank the professor!"

Black's eyebrows furrowed obstinately. "Why should I?"

"Mr. Black!" called McGonagall. "Please come up here for a moment!"

Black turned her. "Yes, Minnie!"

"Mr. Black!" Professor McGonagall said angrily. "Desist these foolish and ill-mannered nicknames immediately! You will refer to me as, 'ma'am,' or 'Professor McGonagall,' or just 'Professor' from now on, do you hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am," Black responded.

"Good." Professor McGonagall gestured with her hand. "Now come up here."

Black went up to the professor's desk in the mien of a rebellious whipping boy about to be punished by his master. McGonagall commenced to giving Black what appeared to be, to my ever-increasing-self-consequence, a rather Stern Talking To. I cheered. The glow I had felt upon seeing the Professor upon my entrance sitting so correctly and upright at her desk increased tenfold.

"_Thank you, Merlin," _I whispered. "Thank you."

I am not mature enough yet to not feel excited wrongdoers are reprimanded; perhaps it's something internally wrong with me. I am also not sure if I am going to tattle on Black again and tell the Professors about his attempted molestation this evening; so any small chastisement Black can get right now is akin to music to my ears.

However, Black apparently is getting madder by the day, so perhaps it would be advisable to bring in outside help again? Perhaps. I realize that outside help in the form of Headmaster Dumbledore and Professors McGonagall and Flitwick (not to mention my parents) did not seem to stop Black from misbehaving earlier, but at least for the moment I am saved from Black pushing himself on me.

Sirius Black thought he could spend two uninterrupted hours with me in a locked classroom like he's done with all his other females?

Ha!

Think again, puny child. I am smarter than that.


	20. Chapter 20

_4th Floor Corridor._

Black left a minute before me, presumably to try and corner me on my way out of McGonagall's classroom.

Well, he wouldn't.

"Raisin."

"Save it!" I snarled. "Molester." I tried to walk around him.

"Hey now—."

"Lunatic," I continued. "Arsewipe. Button-holed…_malfeasor."_ Obviously the tutoring session had not gone very well; Black and I had barely gotten anything done. In between bouts of jabbering at me, he had reduced to a sulky silence all the more annoying for its uselessness. I now had a migraine. Black's exam on Thursday was of course still occurring this Thursday—less than two days away—and the idiot didn't know his Alguff the Awful from his Urg the Unclean.

If this was the kind of blatant disregard for our nation's history I could continue to expect from him then I was going back to McGonagall.

"Excuse me?"

I nodded, increasing the length of my strides. If only I didn't have to walk so far from McGonagall's classroom to get to my Common Room, I could call it a day and let the door shut in Black's stupid pointy face. But the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower was on the other side of the school, and this gave Black more time to follow me. "You heard me. You're a _bouffon,_ too, if that helps any. _Vache. _**_Âne._******_Garcon avec _**_petit testic_**_ules." _

"You're only insulting me, in French besides, because I'm getting to you!" Black said obnoxiously. "That's the only reason. If I wasn't always around you wouldn't have a problem."

"_Il comprend!" _I murmured.

"You actually liked my kiss!" he said. "You want some more! I put you off your feet, and you can't stand not being in control. You're panting for me, Raisin, admit it."

Never. Not Ever. "How does your thought processing work out?" I said, stopping. "How is it possible to derive sense from what you just said?" I spread my hands in a supplicating motion and dropped them. If Black's posturing continued, I would no longer harbor fantasies of throwing him off the Astronomy Tower into a puddle of bear piss; they would become reality. "I tell you, it's not. It's not possible! I am not panting for you, Black. I can't just want your kiss and not want this madness at the same time. Everything you say is nonsensical and ignorant."

"Hey now!"

"I am being honest with you. You really should just stop talking full-stop. Save us all the confusion." I started walking again, very quickly, and Black plodded after me, matching my strides and looking casual. I felt my lip curl back. "Please leave."

"I don't want to. I think I want to follow you to your hidey-hole."

"My hidey-hole?"

Black nodded. "Your Common Room. I think I'll go in with you this time!"

"Go in with me?" That was something we couldn't have. "Uh, no, Black, you won't."

"I believe I will."

"You know it's illegal!" I said desperately. "You'll get in trouble! Do you want another deten…" I shook my head. "What am I saying? Of course you do! You have some record going or something with Potter."

"1,456!" said Black proudly, giving me a ridiculous number, the likes of which only he could have come up with, because there was no way it could be true. "This next one will be the 1,457th. James only has 1,200. I'm hoping to reach a solid 2,000 by the time I graduate."

"That's a big goal," I said patronizingly. "A big ambition. One would think that with all the time you put into pulling your pranks some of it could go to applying yourself to getting better grades."

"One would think that, yes. But pranks are more fun!" Black smiled winningly.

"Ugh. Stop talking! You're giving me a very bad headache. Are you being serious?" Black looked back at me like I was the deranged one. "You're serious, aren't you? You really do think pranks are more important than school."

"Of course! Life is too short to always be on about studying for NEWT's and getting good grades. I could die tomorrow, Raisin," he said.

I sighed. "If only."

"And if I've gone living an exciting life, then what more can I expect?"

"Don't you want a good job?" I burst out. "Don't you want good contacts? Good recommendations?"

Black shrugged. "I already have good contacts. Dumbledore loves me!"

"_Of course," _I mouthed.

"And of course, there's Jamsie," he said. "I'm like the Potters' second child. They look out for their own, you know."

"And you don't feel wrong?" I asked. "You don't feel sick inside from using other people to pave your way like that without doing any work for yourself? Merlin help us, if you plan to become Minister of Magic, Black, because I don't see a nice, prosperous term for our people in the future."

Black grinned. "Do you see chaos, Raisey?"

"I see Destruction: An End To Life As We Know It. And don't call me 'Raisey.'''

"Life as you know it sounds pretty dull, Raisin," Black said. "I'll be happy to help out."

"Dull?" I repeated, quite offended. "My life isn't dull, Black." Obviously not with him around but that went unspoken.

"Uh, I beg to differ, love!"

"Maybe according to your simple standards, my life is dull, because, yes, for the most part if we don't include you…" Hmm. Maybe not so unspoken, Evelyn? "It is free of mayhem. But my life isn't _dull. _I have many interests."

"Had you ever been kissed before tonight?"

"What?" I breathed out. "That question's ridiculous."

"Had you?"

"Of course I've been kissed!" I said, feeling my face go hotter than the asphalt on a summer's day. "I am not some baby!"

"The girls in your year seem to think the opposite," Black said snidely. "And I guess I should rephrase. Before tonight had you ever kissed a boy?"

"What? What?"

"You heard me," said Black. "I've heard the rumors."

"I am not gay!" I said, glaring at him. I pointed a finger. "Where did you hear that?"

"I didn't say you were," Black responded. "I just asked a simple question about whether you had ever kissed a boy."

"Uh, yes, you arsehole, I have."

"No need to name-call. Who was it then?"

"Your brother!" I said, smirking, struck with inspiration. "We had a fabulous time. The stuff that boy can do with his tongue, mmm…he's very mature, that one. Gives a good bite and lick when you need it."

"He's fifteen!" said Black, finally looking properly scandalized.

"And? What's your point? At fifteen you were already throwing over girls older than you like they were yesterday's trash. You have no reason or right to complain."

"I don't believe you!" Black grumbled some. "Reggie's not…like that."

"Not like what?"

"Not like…that."

"Not like what?"

"Not like…you know…" Black waved his hands vaguely in a drunken way. "You know."

"Obviously I don't, Black. Not like what?"

Black huffed. "Not…you know…_interested. He's uninterested."_

I frowned. "What do you mean? Are you saying he's not interested in me? Thanks for that. You're ever such a charmer."

"No!" Black said. "That's not what I meant! Reggie's…"

"Yes?"

"He's a poofter."

I sneered. "You recognize the signs, do you? Being one yourself."

"Oh, come off it! A brother would know, wouldn't he? Reggie couldn't help trying on our mum's hats when he was little. Used to say they had spells in them to increase your knowledge but I knew better. He just wanted to dress up in drag."

"You were on to him!" I said dramatically. "You were on the trail! The slippery slide of blood was _oozing_ down the hallway and you saw it, _smelled it,_ were hunting it to its source!"

"Come on! I'm trying to explain something here!"

"You're doing a very good job! Please, continue."

"Are you sensitive about this subject or something?" Black said in a taunting tone. "Is that why your back's all up in a snit? Because the other girls like to talk too much? You know, if you want some practice, Raisey, all you have to do is ask. I won't mind lending a hand for charity's sake."

Self-preservation made me ignore this last bit. "I am not sensitive!" I defended. "I just don't like it when people are judged like that! How would you like it if everyone talked about you behind their backs, Black?"

"Everyone already talks about me," he said, then rolled his eyes. "I didn't know you were such a champion for the lesser people, Raisin. Come on, lighten up! Pull the stick out of your arse and live a little."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Uptight priss."

"What!"

"Always going on about my grades"

"I'm your _tutor,_ you son of Satan! It's my job!"

"Ready now to do battle, are you?" Black looked pleased, and like a dockside whore after her first night of blowing sailors, I realized that he had gotten what he wanted out of me: a reaction. "If you're interested, I have another suggestion. Less painful and embarrassing for you. You won't have to hobble the rest of the way back to your Common Room—at least, we'll save that for later. It'll be pleasant for the both of us."

"Are you speaking gibberish again? Sirius, I told you to stop that."

"You called me 'Sirius' again!" Black sing-songed. "Forgetting yourself, Raisey?"

"With you around to remind me? Not likely, arsewipe."

_Ravenclaw 6th year Girls' Dorm Room._

"How did it go?"

"Black jumped me," I said crankily. "And then he had an accident in his pants. How did you think it went?" I was just now coming in from the nightmare of tonight. I attempted to step around the human barricade my three friends had set up, blocking the straight way to my bed and salvation. "If you don't mind…Cam, Tammy," I nodded a greeting, "I have some patrolling to do. I only came in to drop off my books. Frankly, it's time to step aside and let me be."

Lucille put her face directly in front of mine and squinted. _"How did it go?" _she repeated doggedly.

"Dull!" I said, because I was obsessed with the word now that Black had stomped it into my psyche. "Dull as dishwater. Blank as a baby's pale arse. Plain as Dice's personality. Granola as a coffee house rock set. Except for when the professor was lambasting Black. That was excellent. One highlight of the night."

"Professor McGonagall lambasted Black?" demanded Lucille, veteran iron reporter despite her few years. "What did she say?"

"What's …'lambasted'?" asked Tamara.

Camilla answered before I could even form a thought if I had wanted to. "It means to chastise, dear!" Tamara nodded but still looked unsure, so Camilla added, "Reprimand. Talk to. Apparently, Black got a talking-to, sweetie."

"Ohhh," said Tamara. "And what did McGonagall say?"

"Exactly what we all want to know," Lucille put in. "Evelyn?"

I grinned. "Exactly what she always says to him except with more force: you're ruining your life, Mr. Black. Grow up, Mr. Black! Stop acting like a delinquent! Show some manners! Stop scratching your head like a slow squib! Stop picking your nose! Stop _hexing _people! Stop breathing wrong! And above all, stop acting like you're King Of The World, because I know you can hear what I'm saying, Mr. Black! It was marvelous."

"Did he start behaving?"

"Ha!"

"I guess that's a 'no,' then." Lucille frowned. "I'll talk to Remus for you."

"Will you also get dear Remus to _imperio_ Black for me?" I said. Tamara gasped. "Yes, Tammy, it's true. I've gone off the bend. Loopy-Loop Crazy. The only way I can see Black reversing his ways is for me to force him. Aside from the darkest of the dark Conduct Correctors, _imperio,_ there's not a behavior-spell on this planet that that boy hasn't thought a way around. Oh, he's crafty, he is." Everyone but Lucy stepped away, paying careful note to my manic hand gestures and glinting eyes. "He was obviously the bane of his mother. No wonder she hates him. No wonder I hate him!"

"Don't say that!" Lucille snapped. "You don't know what it was like for him!"

"But I do know," I said. "Headmaster Dumbledore told me."

"Then you should be more understanding!" Lucille said. _''It is unwise to be too sure of one's own wisdom,'' _she parroted in the mien of someone reciting a quote. She always had to sound like bloody Bertrand Russell._ What if I want to fight a war? _I thought._ Huh? What about then? ''It is healthy to be reminded that the strongest might weaken and the wisest might err.''_

"Understanding, Lucille? I'll be more understanding when Black shrinks, grows wings, and sheds happy hallucinogenic fairy dust onto my head. Then we both can dance around on tulip petals together like fucking background characters in a Willie Shakespeare play, singing 'tra-la-la-I-love-you-I-love-you-too,' in between moments of even more profound idiot-ness, where we'll blow kisses and coo like turtle doves upon having just met their mates! Then all of us will be happy! Every single one! No more complaining! It will be as if I were lobotomized!"

"My, you're stubborn."

Lucille meant the word as an insult, and truly to a Neutral and Studious Ravenclaw, it was. I shrugged it off like it wasn't a problem, however, and headed for the door, surprised when Lucy let me pass. "I guess I just can't let it go."

_Fifth Floor near Statue of Boris the Bewildered._

Stomping through the corridors, hoping to catch a snogging couple Out Of Bounds…

Black really is the most difficult boy I have ever met.

And I do mean he is more annoying than Apollon.

At least with my brother, I can enact back some damage, get my revenge in the form of verbal harassment and threats. But all my sniping seems to do to Black is keep him interested.

And maybe that is the problem.

Maybe I need to be boring and, yes, dull, to get Black to leave me alone; or at the very least, get him to only talk to me when I have asked him a question about his homework.

Even after McGonagall's lecture tonight, all Black seemed to want to do was glare and grump at me like a little boy whose lolly had been taken away. Barring cheating, which I would not put past him either, I wonder how Mr. Suavey Suave thinks he's going to pass his exam on Thursday. More than likely, Black won't study at all. Or he'll tear up the notes I've copied again, and again he will fail, and the result will be that I, Evie Ransom, me, will get the disappointed look from McGonagall, because not only is it My Responsibility to tutor Black but I am also a Ravenclaw—and therefore not in McGonagall's House (And therefore, in a way, yes, I said it, inferior).

It's not my fault the fool can't act like a proper human being. But I know I will get blamed for his misbehavior.

I am supposed to be the matureone.

The girl made older than her years by put-downs and put away feelings. The one everyone comes to when he or she needs some advice on homework or what do about pumpkin juice stains on robes _(amoveo!)._ The one who is always calm, cool, and collected. The one who, apparently, according to Black—though why I am even listening to his opinion anyway is a Mystery—is dull, dull, dull!

Well. It is certainly not my fault Black has decided to use me as his scapegoat for All The Shite that has been in his life up to date. Thinks I don't know what he's trying to do, but he is wrong. Wrong!

More stomping.

Black thinks he can talk me up then throw me over like some regular, twittery young thirteen-year-old girl who doesn't know any better just because he bats his long brown lashes at me. Well, he is wrong! I have learned from my mistakes.

I am a Strong Woman now, and will not succumb.

I am worth more than a quick surrender anyway. I am meant to win. If I have to keep on repeating this fact to myself over and over, well, then so be it, but I will not fall for Black's games again. I know what he wants, and that is to humiliate me. Black gets joy from it somehow. The only reason I can see for this is because he is a sick, sick person and not meant to feel any mercy.

Honestly, Lucille can stuff it if she thinks she is going to be of a help with her lectures and her isms. I do not need Idealism. I need a Fortitude Draught. You want to be some help, Lucy?

Why don't you help me kill Sirius Black?

When I am staring at the magical bonfire that is his Crematory Grave, that is when I will know that I have been helped. Not before.

_The Great Hall._

Woke up incredibly tired and angry. Had Severe Insomnia, and just could not sleep well. In result, I am up with the metaphorical sun (metaphorical because this is Scotland), and down to breakfast at the unheard of hour of 0630 with Tamara. I can't even remember if I got up this early for Quidditch on Sunday.

My body feels that an hour of sleep has been cruelly snatched away and it is refusing to cooperate fully in the Motor Function Department.

I am surprised I made it down safe here actually without having had my legs lock up on me, resulting in an ignominious and tragic fall down the Grand Staircase. But really, there is nothing else to do. At least if I am out of bed, there is a chance my thoughts will get redirected from Black.

"Thanks for coming down with me!"

"No problem," I said, giving Tamara a sleepy smile. In complete contempt to her condition, Tamara had awoken even before me. "Had nothing better to do. Plus this means that I can quiz you on Muggles!"

"Cool," said Tamara.

"But, uh, before we get to that," I said. "Why don't we talk about Anthony? He's a nice boy, isn't he?"

Tamara giggled. "Don't you call him 'Featherbutt'?"

I grimaced. "Yes, I do. But I'm trying to be polite. Convincing?"

Tamara shook her head. "Sorry. But maybe I know you too well?"

"Maybe you do. So tell me about Anthony." Jesus, his name felt like ash on my tongue. One more male to get in a snit about. Surprise. "Does he treat you good? How did you guys get together?"

"He treats me very good!" Tamara said. "He carries my books to class for me and opens doors and everything. He's a true gentleman!"

"Where is Mr. Perfect now?" I wondered, though not out of any real interest to see Featherbutt. I only wanted to make sure he was not anywhere nearby. "Shouldn't he be sitting with you? Sharing a slice of ham and fish over breakfast, and all that? A good boyfriend would slice up your fish for you."

Tamara's nose wrinkled. "I _hate_ fish for breakfast!" she said passionately.

I nodded. "Yes, too slimy for a morning meal, I agree."

"Yea."

I looked at the food. No need to not put it into my stomach now or worry about my weight. If anything, I was determined to repel Black. "So, uh, seriously…" I picked up a strip of bacon and started chewing. "How dih the choo of oo get toge…ther? I'm curious."

Tamara laughed at my lack of manners. "Well, we both have Care of Magical Creatures," she said.

"But he never talks to any girls."

"Right. I know." Here, Tamara paused to let out another giddy giggle. Due to the extreme pitch of it, I figured she had been holding it in for far too long and a release was all for the better. "He's so handsome!"

"Um…"

"Don't you think?"

"Absolutely! Dim Diggory can't even compare!"

"You know," said Tamara, "Stuart doesn't like it when you call him that."

"I forgot we like to talk to Stuart in Divination," I murmured.

Tamara looked confused by my use of pronoun. "But you don't have Divination, Evie! Or at least, Cammy and I haven't seen you in there. Do you just not go to class? You shouldn't do that!" Tamara informed me seriously. "Lucy says your study habits are already 'below par'…"

I let Tamara drone on as I watched Black enter The Great Hall, Potter and Pettigrew trailing in beside him. In that moment, it really was like everything else got washed out in some sepia-toned reactionist art nightmare. I probably should not be focusing all my attention on Black right now, but Merlin, is it hard not to. He just looks so ridiculous walking. Strutting in like that, like he's at some Muggle Disco Contest about to go out on the floor and wow the judges. Smiling smarmily at every female in attendance. Winking at a precious few (and oh how their sighs disgust me). And flicking back his black hair like he is The Hottest Thing Ever, God's Gift To Women.

Pathetic. It is pathetic, and it is putting me off my food. I shoved my plate away.

Now see him smile widely at me like he did not just get the verbal lashing of his life from McGonagall last night. Like he did not just kiss me, and try to have his wicked way with me against a wall, and did not get his arse handed to him as a result.

Hmm. Maybe his memory is faulty?

"Raisin."

"Arsehole," I greeted, unable, _unable_ to control my frown. "Back for more?"

"What are you referring to?" Black said. "More of what? If the answer is more of your delightful company, then yes, I am!" His friends snickered. "Can I sit down?"

"No."

"Oh, do sit down!" Tamara encouraged, trying to nudge me to move farther down the bench. "There's plenty of room!" I stared at Tamara in befuddlement. After all our dorm talks even she could not fail to understand that I did not want Black near me during off-hours.

"Tamara—."

"Thank you," Black said, helping Tamara make room. "Budge up there, Raisin! Three strapping boys, about to sit down! Need our space, we do. You can't hog everything."

"Boys aren't allowed!" I said, making up the rule on the spot, though honestly, it sounded aces. "And unfortunately, there's no time anyway…alas…is there, Tamara? She and I were just about to head to The Library for a review. She has an exam in Muggle Studies. Very Important."

"And how can you be any help, then?" Black threw back at me. "Your blood's as pure as anything. What, you're going to wow her with your amazing knowledge of motorbikes and automated good-time dolls?"

Potter and Pettigrew burst into the kind of super-annoying laughter only boys can make. "Syrupy, you're making me blush. Stop it."

Potter snorted for good measure. "As much as I want to question you on that—."

"_Don't,"_ Black advised.

"And as much fun as this is, Padfoot, watching you and your little side project trade barbs—."

"What?" I said. I blinked, thoroughly insulted. _"_Excuse me? _Side project, _Black?"

Black frowned at Potter. "Nice job, Prongs!"

"What do you want me to do, Padfoot? I'm not being nice to her for you. I don't like you that much."

"You really do have the best of friends!" said. "It's remarkable. Birds of a feather, they flock together, I guess."

"Anyway," Potter said, pretending that he hadn't heard me. "Petey and I are going to go sit down and eat. Have a fun chat, Sirius."

Unfortunately, I felt bereft out of Potter's company. Like a kid on leaving day for Hogwarts, being abandoned by her silly and neglectful relatives; she wants them gone, sure, but the world away from them is an even scarier and stranger place.

Black took advantage of my preoccupation and quickly took a hold of my elbow, pulling me off the bench.

I gave him a look meant to convey my sheer disgust and miscomprehension of the way he was currently acting. "Um?"

"If you'll excuse us," he said to Tamara, who looked on with mouth open. "Raisin and I have some unfinished business. What?" He glowered down at me. "Do you have a _problem?"_

"Do _you_ have a problem? Why are you dragging me off? Regressed to cave-man tendencies today, have we?"

"Oh, shut up."

"_Ouch,_ Black."

"Excuse us," he said again to Tamara, with a funny little bow.

"That was almost polite! If it weren't for that fact that you're being unconscionably proprietary I would think McGonagall had finally gotten to you last night."

"You would, would you?"

"But since I know better. Mr. Grabby McGrabby-Hands…" Here, I very stubbornly started dragging my feet. However, most unfortunately, Black was stronger and taller; despite my height and weight, he did not look like my struggles were affecting him at all. "Black! Honestly! We are in a public place! Stop it!"

"All the better that it's public. It'll cow you down."

We reached our destination (a little used corner of The Gryffindor Table, right in front of The Doors), and I was seated with all the pomp befitting a slave on market day; that is, none at all—I was thrown down carelessly into my seat. Not really interested in making more of a scene, I allowed it.

"This is mad," I said. "I know you're practicing for when you get a wife and want to smack her around, Black, but can't you be a little more gentle? Or, in point of fact, use someone else? I have an aversion to breaking my bread with you, like the Old Days. I don't sit or eat with my enemies. In fact, I might sick up.'

Black sat down beside me. "Am I your enemy?"

I choked on my disbelief. "What are we, _friends?"_

"Well, sure, Raisin, we can be friends. Except I didn't know you cared that much."

"I don't care. I don't want to be your friend."

"What's all this anger about then?"

"I am acting as any human would when confronted with this sheer amount of bastardry."

Black smiled, unfazed. "Wow," he said. "You are so completely sexy when you use big words like that."

"I'm not all talk! If you touch me again, there's going to be a Blood Feud, I promise you."

"Whatever you want, dear, sure."

"I am not your 'dear,'" I replied, acid dripping. "I am not your 'love.' I am not your 'lovey.' I am not your 'darling.' And I am certainly not your…your repository for all the lustful impulses you have to unload!" Black snorted. "I am my own person, Black. I have my own mind. And not one inch of my skin will ever belong to you, so tell me, what am I doing here? Are we calling a 'truce' again? Because frankly, I am sick of all this waiting."

"Do you want to call a truce?"

"Honestly?"

Black nodded.

"Honestly, I want to duel you. But I am not in the mood to get expelled right now, so we'll have to come up with something else equally satisfying."

Black began giving me one of his leering looks. "Oh, really?"

"I am not having sex with you!" I said. "I'm just laying that out right now."

"I didn't think you would, Raisin."

"Oh, please. All the talk of me 'panting for it' and you didn't think I would? Please."

"You don't strike me as that kind of girl." Black shrugged. "If I'm wrong however, feel free to, uh, prove me wrong."

"I do like it when you're wrong!" I said thoughtfully and Black straightened. "But, no, Black. I am going to have to say 'no'. As much as your offer tempts me; makes me want to succumb to the Dark Side. As much as I'd like to risk the censure of my parents, professors, best friends, and general health of my sexual organs, I am going to have to say 'no.' Sorry."

"Pity. You sound scared, though. And you're _flushing!" _ Black looked delighted by this. "Raisin! I think you really do want me to do something! You're more affected than you're letting on! Tell me, why are you lying to me?"

"You caught me," I said, lifting my hands. "I want you. Like really bad."

"Don't be such a chicken, Raisin. Take the plunge for once."

"Grow up!" I returned. "Learn some respect and decency! You can send me an owl when you've thought it over. Otherwise, I guess I'll see you tonight for tutoring." I patted Black's cheek and then I just got up and walked away, knowing Black and the rest of The Hall were staring after me.


	21. Chapter 21

_Random Corridor off the Entrance Hall._

I mean, it's not like I am deranged or anything. I am not mentally handicapped. I haven't been traumatized by an unhappy childhood or emotionally abused by a parental unit. I haven't been smacked around or harassed unduly. And I am not mad in the head. On the contrary, I had a very peaceful life up until Hogwarts.

I don't think anything is really wrong on the interior at all. I shouldn't be having problems reasoning things out, but I am.

I mean, it's not like Sirius Black is the one true love of my life or anything, is he? It's not like he's the only boy I'll ever be attracted to; even though that seems to be the case now. I mean, it's not like I am never going to get over him. I will. Once Black leaves Hogwarts I will be free to crush on any boy I please. It really will be grand.

But, and here's the kicker, Sirius Black has not left Hogwarts yet. If he continues to prove he's as stupid as he seems, he might never leave Hogwarts. I might be stuck with him for an entire other year. And that would most assuredly be horrid.

Visions of him sneaking up to Ravenclaw Tower at 0400, and barging into my room in his white underpants with oil spread over his skin singing Italian love songs plague me nightly. No matter the fact that the staircase would not allow him to climb up, I am sure Black would find a way. Or even worse, there are visions of Black parading around me on St. Valentine's Day, peacock feather stuck in the brim of his warlock's cap, festive projections of magical hearts and roses swirling around our heads as he serenades me and the rest of Hogwarts in an off-tune baritone to "Come with him, come with him, and let me be his dovey-love." I can't get away from him even in my dreams.

I am beginning to realize that my word means nothing. My threats to Black mean nothing. Nothing to him and nothing to anyone. Black was gob smacked for a bit—perhaps a minute—over my ultimatum that he grow up before he decides to converse again, but right now he is following me to The Library, where I plan on studying with Tamara, and this really, this really cannot fly.

I mean, I did talk to him at his Table, didn't I? The conversation wasn't all in my head. Sirius Black responded back. It looked like he was taking what I said in. And it looked like he was processing it. Barring a possible momentary and very ill-timed deafness on his part, it looked like something had finally clicked. It looked like for at least a bit of time, I would finally get some peace.

Or perhaps what I thought was a Blaze Of Glory that I had marched out in was in fact a Haze Of Delusion.

Black was perhaps only surprised that I had enough bollocks to briefly derail his laughably inferior alpha-male seduction efforts. Perhaps I will never be able to make a believable Aggressive Woman impression on him in the future.

Sadly, and we know this, it is because I am not an Aggressive Woman.

If I were anyone else, perhaps someone prettier, like Suzy Carmichael, or someone crazier like Bellatrix Black, I would be able to scrounge up the confidence to make a second stand, but as it is, I am not any prettier or crazier. I am just Evie.

"Please stop trying to grab my hand!" I finally implored, looking at him; looking at the absolute ridiculous way he had about him.

Grinning happily, Black skipped alongside. "Why?"

"It just would make me more comfortable if you appreciate that on occasion, I like my space, Black."

"Lovey, you should know that it's hard for me to be separate from you. Unlike you, I have had a traumatizing childhood, _filled_ with smacks, harassment, and emotional abuse. So when I find someone—."

"Give that back!" I demanded, horrified, because Black had his hands around my diary. Horrified, that he might have read further on. I lunged at him. "That is my personal journal, Black!"

"Well, I know that. It says that inside the cover. See: 'Property of Evie Ransom. Interlopers Beware.' Am I an Interloper then?"

"Give it back," I said again. "What are—Black, stop flipping through pages!"

Black doggedly held the beloved item out of reach, and I reached for my wand. "Hmm. What else does it say about me, I wonder? Why, I am practically on every page! Raisin! I am flattered!"

"_Locomortis!"_ I cried.

Black immediately seized up, and the book dropped from his hands. Every muscle, except for the ones in his eye-sockets, was paralyzed. I picked up my diary and ran, not waiting for one of his friends to come upon us in suspicion, seeing me with my wand still raised and righteous glory fixed on my face. Only I unfortunately did not get far enough.

"_Locomortis!"_ shouted a voice much more authoritative than I. I did not feel my body tip over or my face smack into the stone floor. Perhaps both good things. "Miss Ransom, I am appalled by your behavior!"

I sent out frantic prayers to Merlin and Morgana that my nose would remain unbroken from the fall and my teeth un-chipped. I gave no thought to prayers over my academic wellbeing as a student or not getting a detention from McGonagall, the professor standing over me. There was really nothing higher-beings could do about inevitables. I was obviously in The Shitter here. "I am appalled!" Professor McGonagall reiterated. "Never did I think you would curse a student! Not once! And here you are, cursing students! What do you have to say for yourself?"

I began to pray that McGonagall's question was rhetorical and she would not punish me harsher over a failure to answer her.

"I can not believe you would do such a thing, Miss Ransom! I am absolutely appalled. Absolutely appalled! Detention!" She _finite incantantem_'ed Black's body and levitated me to float in front of her. "Shall I ask Mr. Black what happened?" _No,_ I thought at her frantically with my eyes. _No. He will lie to you. Ask me. Ask me what happened._

"As you can see, she cursed me, Professor," Black responded, dusting himself off. He nodded his head imperiously at me. "She really is quite unhinged! You may read her journal, if you like. It explains her plots in there."

"What plots?" said McGonagall suspiciously. "Is that her private journal there, Mr. Black?"

"Of course it is. Full of dark admissions of dark deeds."

"Dark deeds, is it? Well, give it over then. Let me see."

I watched impotently as Black walked over to me and yanked it out of my rigor-mortis-like float-y grip. "Here you are—."

McGonagall smacked Black over the head with it. I would have smiled. I promise you I would have.

"Professor McGona—!"

"I am very certain that you deserve more than a good pummeling with this but for the moment I believe my instincts to snuff that ridiculous expression of triumph off your face have been squelched!" McGonagall turned toward me. "Miss Ransom, I know Mr. Black is trying at times, but you must remember to behave like a lady. Ladies do not get in fights. Ladies do not curse people. Have I made myself clear?" I attempted a nod with my eyes. "Good. Now, you will both follow me."

"Both of us?" Black questioned. "Why, I am the injured party here! I am the one who was cursed! I shouldn't have to follow, professor!"

"Who was or who was not the injured party shall be determined in my office, Mr. Black. Now, move!"

_Professor McGonagall's Office._

"Sit down, you two!" Professor McGonagall barked at Black and me. Her face was furious. This was it, certainly. This was McGonagall's Detention Face. The Face McGonagall employed whenever she was doling out punishment to The Delinquents.

I had heard about the Face before. Urban Legends had been bandied about it for decades. Students had wet their knickers and spontaneously combusted their wands. I had been a bit curious, the way one is about You-Know-Who's True Face sans squiggly red-eyed make-up, or Dumbledore's Sexuality, but certainly not enough to consciously get myself into trouble. Even though I frequently pass notes in class, I have never been on the receiving end of this look before today. Now, I am a Delinquent. This is how far the boys will make you fall, girls. This is what you will turn into if you start to fancy Sirius Black. Like me, you will become bad.

I still have my pride however. I will not look at Black and see him smirking at me with his stupid, selfish face, and his stupid, twinkle-y eyes.

"I cannot believe this of you, Miss Ransom." McGonagall reamed me with her black-eyed stare. "Mr. Black, I can certainly believe this of, but you, _Miss Ransom,_ my _star pupil,_ how could you do this?"

Like an idiot, I voiced my immediate gratitude. "I didn't know I was your star pupil, professor!"

"Kiss-arse," whispered Black out of the side of his mouth. "Can never hold it back, can you?"

"Mr. Black!" McGonagall said. "Keep it civil or you will get three weeks of detentions instead of two! And, Miss Ransom!" I flinched. "That statement of mine was not in need of a reply. In fact, it was rhetorical. Are you certain you are aware of what the term 'rhetorical' means, Miss Ransom?"

"Uh…um. Yes, professor. Yes, I am."

"What do you mean so cavalierly by 'yes'?"

"I mean that I am aware of its meaning, professor. However I was unaware that you did not need a response as the way you ended with my name at a higher pitch than the words preceding it denoted a question mark. Therefore, I answered you. Also, I am sorry."

Professor McGonagall squinted her eyes at me. "Have you been spending too much time around Mr. Black, Miss Ransom? Is that where this absurdity is coming from?" My mouth must have dropped open in offense, for McGonagall added, "I have no other explanation for the lack of decorum I witnessed in you today and the lack of decorum I continue to witness, Miss Ransom, then to call it as it is: an absurdity. Your behavior has become absurd."

Black started snickering.

McGonagall swiveled her head like a raptor. "Mr. Black! I would certainly feel more penitent if I were in your shoes! You are receiving double Miss Ransom's punishment!"

"I actually enjoy your detentions, professor!" Black said. "This is because I enjoy your company!"

"Well I certainly do not enjoy yours, Mr. Black! Mr. Filch may be a…strange young man, but in this instance I share his sentiments about Corporal Punishment. If I had the choice I would crack down on you so hard your children's children would wake up with a twinge in their hands forty years from now, saying, 'Oh!'"

"Professor McGonagall!"

"Oh, do not give me that puppy-eyed look, Mr. Black! I only confess to a desire to hitting you over the knuckles with my wand. I certainly won't string you up by your thumbs and leave you in the dungeon!"

I chanced a glance at Black, now that he had his attention firmly fixed on our professor, and saw that he was wearing a large smile. "You are a dirty bird!" he said, admiringly. "You are full of surprises! I confess, professor, I myself, am quite attracted to authority—."

"Three weeks, Mr. Black!" cried McGonagall, looking incredibly agitated. "Three weeks of detention. Four, if you indeed finish that sentence!"

"That is a dilemma," Black noted.

Professor McGonagall nodded, ruffles in place again. "Good. I am glad you think so, Mr. Black."

"Raisin tells me I have a test this Thursday. And of course, there is Merlin Save Us From Exam Week starting Monday. If I rack up more offenses with you, when _will_ I have time to study, I wonder?"

"Another professor might say 'Perhaps you should have thought of that before you entered into a wizard's duel,' Mr. Black. However, as I am not another professor, and your Head of House besides, I make it my obligation to see that all of my students graduate with the highest scores possible. You can be certain that I will allow you time to study. Though, you should also note, Mr. Black, it remains in your best interests to not offend me further."

"That's very thoughtful of you, professor. And wise."

"You're quite welcome, Mr. Black."

"However, I would like to point out that I did not get involved in a wizard's duel with Raisin," Black said, and I wanted to shake him. "You make it sound much more mutual than it was. She cursed _me,_ professor. I know you saw only the end product but I can assure you that I did not lift my wand to her. It was all quite sordid, actually."

McGonagall looked at me squarely. I knew my judgment had not ended. I could hear My Hopes letting out their last, unapologetic, strangled breath, and I have to confess, shamefully, my face wrinkled of its own accord and my eyes started to smart. Incredibly, I realized, I really could not remain mad at Black over my own inadequacy to control my emotions. Incredibly, I was sitting in McGonagall's office because I, and not Black, had done something wrong. And this was Shameful.

"Mr. Black's sequence of events rings true with what I witnessed, Miss Ransom," said Professor McGonagall. "I apologize, Mr. Black, for forgetting that you had not cursed her. Miss Ransom, what do you have to say for yourself? Perhaps I should suspend your Prefect duties while you take your detentions? I am sure if I paired Miss Jones with Miss Dice the two would do a more than satisfactory job of patrolling these halls."

"Oh, please, professor, don't take away my prefect duties!" Obviously, the moment for begging was at hand. "I love them! I really do!" Black snorted.

"Is that so, Miss Ransom?"

"Yes. Yes, it is so! And Camilla Jones shouldn't be working with Mara Dice anyway, professor. The two hate each other!"

McGonagall harrumphed. "All the more reason for them to work together, I say, and get their differences sorted out."

"But, Professor McGonagall!" I decided to lay all my cards out on the table, for Camilla would truly not be a Happy Sally—nor would she thank me—if what was about to come to pass was to really come to pass, "This is not an ordinary situation! This involves a boy!"

"I was not born yesterday, Miss Ransom!" McGonagall chastised me. "I know that feuds between young females commonly involve males in one capacity or another. And if there is a problem involving two students here that is so large it precludes any possible acquaintance between them then it would be in everyone's best interests for someone—perhaps I—to mediate a solution. That said, I will take your opinion on the matter into consideration. Perhaps only morning detentions are needed for you to ruminate over the consequences of your actions."

"Professor McGonagall!" Black said, his mouth having been silent for as long as it could apparently take. "Do you hear yourself? Morning detentions are no kind of punishment! Not for her!"

"Mr. Black! I did not give you leave to speak!"

"Someone has to!" said Black. "Obviously, it's not going to be Miss Priss sitting over there with her wand up her arse—."

McGonagall rose from her seat. "Mr. Black!"

"I have something to say!" Black declared. "And I will say it come one more detention or no!"

"Then I suggest you write your memoirs, Mr. Black, because I am _absolutely uninterested_ in any assessment you have regarding the matter of Miss Ransom's punishment! I am the disciplinarian here, not you!"

Black growled, and, in a rush of drama, stood up as well. "I am the injured party here! Me! Where is my recompense?" He pointed at me. "I demand recompense!"

"Sit down, Mr. Black!"

_Ravenclaw 6th Year Girls' Dorm._

"Evie, are you…" Tamara's voice came from somewhere hazy, and I looked up, snapping open my bed curtains, and attempting to focus my eyes through a bizarre blurry mess. "Are you…crying?"

"What?" I said, feeling my cheeks. Nothing felt out of the ordinary. Perhaps I was sweating? "Of course not."

"I heard you from the hallway. Your face is all wet," she continued. "Did Black give you an Expo-Expire…that Expo thing again? That was a nasty business a few weeks ago when that happened. People still talk about it!"

"Expungent," I supplied, liberally patting at my face with my pillow. No reason to leave my face wet for Lucille to discover when she came back from wherever it was she went to these days. "And no, Tammy. If Black did that he would be dead. I am apparently leaking because Black did something only a bit less foul. I'll tell you about it later when I'm able to stop picturing a Giant smearing his intestines across The Entrance Hall."

Tamara worried her bottom lip. "Please don't kill him!" she begged. "He's really cute."

"Ah, well, in that case…"

"Thanks, Evie. You're a great friend!"

"I'll try not to bludgeon up his face too badly for his coffin showing," I said. "Perhaps it'll all be under the beltline. Maybe a disembowelment or a castration. Perhaps he'll be drawn and quartered and he'll have his parts nailed to each entrance of the ladies' bathrooms. 'Beware Females,' it will say, 'of Bad Men and What They Make You Do.'"

Tamara, bless her, giggled. "What did he do this time?" she asked. "Are you guys a couple yet?"

"Oh, God no!" Thank Merlin That Horror had not come to pass like so many others. Though, perhaps actually writing it down makes it a possibility. In which case, I should summarily scratch it out.

"Having a boyfriend can be nice. Anthony and I are a couple now," Tamara said, and then blushed. Merlin, to be so nonjudgmental and innocent. "He's very sweet, don't you think? He talks about you a lot."

I wrinkled my nose. "No surprise there," I said.

Tamara's brow puckered. "What? Can you speak a little louder, Evie? I'm sorry, but my hearing's not that good. My muggle doctor says it's an Endocrine Problem."

"This is the first I've heard of that," I joked really badly, and then quickly continued, "Doesn't the Endocrine System have to do with hormonal secretions in glands and such?"

"What?"

"Sorry. Sorry. It was nothing. I meant those small sticky round things in the body that produce the sexy feelings." I took a bite out of my dark chocolate bar. Don't let any wizard anywhere ever tell you that you cannot conjure edible food. Because you can. And if not, then I will probably be getting sick here in a couple minutes. One more thing to be depressed about since a stomach poisoning will certainly cause me to miss classes. "Tell me more about _Anthony._ After so many years of living near a swamp have the bog fumes finally got to his brain?"

"We both live near that swamp."

"Shh. Shh, Tammy. That's a secret."

"What?"

"Sorry. People seem to be having problems understanding me lately. Lucille thinks it's because I'm as mad as a poltergeist."

"Maybe you're just in love!" Tamara said, sighing; giving me what had to be her honest opinion on the matter. "Do you get all nervous whenever Sirius walks into the room?"

"Yes," I admitted. "But that has nothing to do with me loving him. That has to do with the fact that he makes every female nervous. It's the way he looks, you see."

"But isn't that love?" said Tamara. "That nervous, twitchy feeling?"

"The muggles say nervousness around another person is simply your brain secreting adrenaline."

"Do you consider yourself to be a muggle?"

Surprised, I said, "That's a very astute question. I don't think I want to answer that."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know the answer. On one hand, if I do consider myself to be a muggle, then muggle body advice sounds pretty appropriate, and accepting that theory makes the notion that I am in love with Sirius Black all the more clinical: meaning that if 'love' is a product of bodily secretions then all I have to do to fall out of 'love' is to find something that stops me from secreting. On the other hand, listening to that twaddle puts me in a bad mood. There is a lot to be said for the blissful ignorance that a lack of science brings."

"Hmm."

"What I mean, simply, is that I honestly don't know. Either way I'm buggered, because I still fancy Black like mad."

Tamara smiled. "I knew it!" she said. "I told Lucille and Cam, and they told me not to say anything to you, but I knew it. I knew you liked him. I think he likes you too," Tamara continued. "He's always following you around, leaving you notes and things."

I smiled sarcastically. "By things, do you mean Expungents, Tamara? Because if so, then he's like the most sensitive boyfriend ever. I agree."

Tamara shook her head. "No, silly. I mean like candy."

For a moment, I felt paranoid. "Black has never left me any candy. I would kill him if he did. Did he give you something to give to me?"

"Didn't he give you a chocolate cupid in third year?"

"A chocolate cupid filled with Aging Potion? Why, yes, he did. Thank you for reminding me. Bastard Black made it wrong though, and I was sick for two weeks. He really has the most caring heart, our Black. I remember my parents had to buy me new robes because all my sick turned my old ones fuchsia. I can't believe I forgot that! You're right, Tammy. Black is quite extraordinary."

"And you still love him even though he was naughty to you."

I laughed. "I am like crazy, stupid in love with him. He makes me stupid. He makes me do all kinds of stupid, stupid things, like get detentions, and stare at him, and just get, like, unbelievably, intensely infuriated with him. It is, like, the Biggest Mistake Of The Universe Ever. A monumental, epic cock-up the likes of which Merlin could not have foreseen. I would like to kill him, but that would mean that he would no longer even exist in a purely abstract way and so that means that I can't kill him."

"I'm sorry!" said Tamara. "But it really would be awful if you killed him! You'd have to go to Azkaban."

"There is that. Home to madmen, serial killers, and various other career criminals alike. Sounds like home, it does. Sounds like home."

Tamara leaned forward. "Are you okay?"

"No," I said honestly.

"Oh."

"Do you want some chocolate?" I picked up my wand, and levitated my book bag over to the bed. Rummaging through it, I found what I had been looking for, and handed it off to Tamara. "Here. I was saving this bar for an emergency but I feel it's impolitic to be eating in front of you when you're empty-handed."

Tamara took the bar with a thank-you. "I could have just nibbled on the one you've got in your hand. You didn't have to give me this."

"I might get sick from my bar," I said. "You won't from that, unless you eat it, like, super-fast. So, don't."

"You're really sweet, Evie."

I shrugged. After a minute of silence and chewing, I said, "Thanks for listening to me. Lucille has a problem with that."

"With listening to you?"

"I'd say she has a problem listening in general. But to me in particular."

"Are you going to tell her that you're in love with Sirius?"

Ha! "I'd appreciate it if we kept this conversation between the two of us. Which means, if you see Sirius Black or Lucille or even Camilla, Tammy, you remain mum, alright? It'd literally be the End Of The World for me if any of them found out that I have feelings."

"Feelings for Sirius Black."

"That's correct."


End file.
